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Own All Your Parts

Own Your Shit/seize the day/carpe diem/Own All Your Parts/www.befat.net


We flaunt our good parts.

I mean if you’ve got shapely legs, wear a short skirt, right? We set the “good china” out for company. We post pictures of our favorite “things” and show-off our awards and accomplishments. Hey, getting a souffle to STAY up IS a damn good achievement!

There’s nothing to lose when all the pieces of life are magazine perfect. We stand tall, smile pretty, display our best Mrs. Brown’s Finishing School for Girls manners.

My life right now is the end-product of all the years that molded me into this shape. So I guess that makes me a HUMAN SAUSAGE. To the outside world they see the finished product, and some people like it. Sausage connoisseurs may turn and run the other way. To the sausage maker (Me), all the questionable bits and pieces remain a secret recipe. It’s best to showcase the final product than to know what’s inside.

Honestly, I worried that if my ingredients were revealed, who the heck would find me attractive? Or want to have a cup of coffee with me? I worried that every day for the rest of my life I would wake up worried and go to bed worried, and in between would be nothing but the worry of being found out.

But here’s a nice part of getting older. You finally, for the love of the Almighty, figure out there’s no other brand of sausage quite like you. And better…you ACCEPT that. See, we get older and while our eyeballs need readers, our internal clarity improves. More, it’s the realization that what you see is what it is, take it or leave it. And at this stage I’m only trying to keep my parts intact and in working order.

I FINALLY get that every ingredient is necessary to make me, ME. And I’m totally cool with that.

Say you were born with a tall lanky frame, nicely shaped boobs and straight perfect teeth. Well honey, let me burst your bubble. You’re going to keep those for the rest of your life. For me, I was born WORRIED. It took a while — years — but when I realized all the worry in the world didn’t make it snow any LESS, well, I fixed that part and moved on to accepting:

The broken parts.

The bandaged parts.

The ugly parts.

The messy parts.

The boring parts.

The scared parts.

The crazy parts.

The salvaged parts.

The hurt parts.

The angry parts.

The parts I’m still trying to work out.

I’m also thinking also of replacing some parts. Trashing some parts. Sharing some parts (keep it clean people).

You don’t need to share all the bits and pieces, but for YOU to know YOU, you’ve got to at least admit to owning your parts.


Original graphic: Stephanie DelTorchio






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