I saw a poster the other day of Marilyn Monroe. The caption at the bottom stated: "Proof that you can drive thousands of men crazy even when your thighs touch." As I look at her picture my mind began racing with all the comparisons I could make between Marilyn's body in a swimsuit and my own. Her legs and arms are more tone. She has beautiful blonde hair and pouty red lips. Her fingers are slender and point. Her trademark beauty mark just above her mouth that only accentuates her feminine face. The list could go on for miles. Then I read the caption once more, and it prompted me to a section in her biography where it talked about her low self-esteem. I was shocked to read that a famous sex icon such as Marilyn, renowned around the world as a man's fantasy didn't see her own beauty. We could all see it, but she couldn't. If the camption on her nearly bare body picture read "thousands of men" sure she should know she's beautiful. I would imagine that at least ONE of those "thousands of men" told her she was beautiful. Why couldn't she see it? Why didn't she believe it?
The next question that comes to mind is why do I need "thousands of men" to be driven crazy over how I look? Why is it not enought for the one, the only one who matter, the one I am in a covenant relationship with to be "driven crazy"? If I plan to stay true to my marriage vows, which I do, then why should it ever cross my mind what another man thinks about me? Those men will never see my swimsuit collection of pictures from me. It shouldn't matter what those men think. And, truthfully, if we got down to the brass tax (don't really know what that expression mena, but I've heard it used before when describing the bottom of the bottom) of it all, if a man isn't in a covenant relationship with a certain woman should he really be letting himself be "driven crazy" ove how she looks? My goal in this article isn't to express the religious why's and wherefore's of sin, sexuality, infidelity, or love vs. lust. The true purpose is to unveil my own insecurities with the hope of one day conquerring this beast of low self-esteem.
The sad truth about Marilyn is that she didn't win that battle. She struggled with seeing her own beauty up until the moment she over-dosed and her body gave in to the torment and abuse. She must have been so tired; emotionally drained and mentally exhausted from the constant worry of achieving and maintaining her lustful status. There are days I want to quit; give up completely becaust I feel so defeated. Then I am reminded of how blessed I am. My worries could be centered on: "Is my husband okay, and is he coming home?", "Will we have food for dinner tonight?", "Will my Jeep start?" Or my worries could be exponentially worse: "How am I going to get my legless self to the doctor to be fitted for prosthetic limbs?", "How will I continue perfecting my passion of painting, building, and creating if I am blind?" Minus the melodrama, some of these scenarios are are real struggles for many people. I am blessed to realize that my greatest struggle being faced as a woman nearing 30 is: "Will I fit into those "goal pants" I bought 2 months ago for my birthday dinner in 5 weeks?"
I dont konw that I'll every accept the shape of my thighs. Hwat I do know is that I"ll never forget my reaction to Marilyn's white swimsuit photo caption. My focus is now lasered in on what my husband thinks and how I feel, rather than stirring up the imaginations and creating empty desired for thousands of men.
The next question that comes to mind is why do I need "thousands of men" to be driven crazy over how I look? Why is it not enought for the one, the only one who matter, the one I am in a covenant relationship with to be "driven crazy"? If I plan to stay true to my marriage vows, which I do, then why should it ever cross my mind what another man thinks about me? Those men will never see my swimsuit collection of pictures from me. It shouldn't matter what those men think. And, truthfully, if we got down to the brass tax (don't really know what that expression mena, but I've heard it used before when describing the bottom of the bottom) of it all, if a man isn't in a covenant relationship with a certain woman should he really be letting himself be "driven crazy" ove how she looks? My goal in this article isn't to express the religious why's and wherefore's of sin, sexuality, infidelity, or love vs. lust. The true purpose is to unveil my own insecurities with the hope of one day conquerring this beast of low self-esteem.
The sad truth about Marilyn is that she didn't win that battle. She struggled with seeing her own beauty up until the moment she over-dosed and her body gave in to the torment and abuse. She must have been so tired; emotionally drained and mentally exhausted from the constant worry of achieving and maintaining her lustful status. There are days I want to quit; give up completely becaust I feel so defeated. Then I am reminded of how blessed I am. My worries could be centered on: "Is my husband okay, and is he coming home?", "Will we have food for dinner tonight?", "Will my Jeep start?" Or my worries could be exponentially worse: "How am I going to get my legless self to the doctor to be fitted for prosthetic limbs?", "How will I continue perfecting my passion of painting, building, and creating if I am blind?" Minus the melodrama, some of these scenarios are are real struggles for many people. I am blessed to realize that my greatest struggle being faced as a woman nearing 30 is: "Will I fit into those "goal pants" I bought 2 months ago for my birthday dinner in 5 weeks?"
I dont konw that I'll every accept the shape of my thighs. Hwat I do know is that I"ll never forget my reaction to Marilyn's white swimsuit photo caption. My focus is now lasered in on what my husband thinks and how I feel, rather than stirring up the imaginations and creating empty desired for thousands of men.
I will gladly fight thousands of men for you babe!
ReplyDelete-Your Husband
Beautiful. Insightful, well spoken, thought provoking & beautiful.
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