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Still on the Warpath: Naiadknight's Battle Tome

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  • I do the same with an omelet. This is much too thick to be a true omelet. I think when it was done, it was a good inch and a half thick.
    Dinner is puerco rojo (red pork.) For those not familiar with what that is, it's pork shoulder pressure cooked with a sauce made of rehydrated dried peppers, pepper juice, garlic, and cumin. Well, we pressure cook it. The traditional method involves long cook times.
    Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, steak in one hand, chocolate in the other, yelling "Holy F***, What a Ride!"
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    • The puerco rojo came out PERFECTLY. As in, cut it with the plastic serving spoon tender and flavored throughout.
      Still grading these exams. I swear my sixth period took some sort of contest to see who could make the lowest grade without taking a zero.
      My sleeping schedule is still way more nocturnal than I need it to be. I may just stay up through tomorrow and pass out on time to get back in sync.
      I still need to call the allergist to change my appointment.
      Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, steak in one hand, chocolate in the other, yelling "Holy F***, What a Ride!"
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      • Ooh that puerco rojo sounds amazing. Took me a minute to work out the pepper juice - d'uh! Having had Tandoori mixed grill on NYE it got me thinking that I need to do more in the way of marinades/sauces. That and the hints to hubby that I would like to barbecue every night

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        • Just took a long soaking bath and then did some I can't think I've ever done. I looked in the mirror closely, but not with my everyday eyes. I looked with my artist's eyes. I refused to allow any negative self talk, merely observation.
          What I noted:
          I have a long face, but it's well balanced. My lips would be a dream to draw and are well colored. My eyes have shifted colors over the years, from chocolate brown to green with brownish starburst highlights. I have heavy brows, but they work well with the angles of my face. I have high cheekbones, the kind many would love to have. I have a pronounced chin, bu not so pronounced as to be masculine. I'd wager I could pull off an androgynous face very well.
          My neck is long, for someone so petite, and well sculpted, especially given how little work has gone into it. I have a strong jaw and elfin ears, which play well together with the neck. I also have rather pronounced trapezii, making for a nice connection to my shoulder. I actually have the points of my shoulders and visible collarbones, which play well with the way I'm built and add to my beauty. The one spinal knob I'm thinking about having a tattoo done over is there, but only if I crane my head forward. That would be a nice place for a tattoo, understated, but visible should I decide to let it be.
          My arms are well built, not from working out, but from years and years of carrying a backpack. I have sculpting/ definition lines generally only seen in figure or athletic models on both my upper arms and lower arms, if I turn my arm right. I have biceps, if I flex. My elbows are pointy, but not anorexically so. My radius heads are visible in a healthy manner. My arms are lightly freckled, and I know that gets darker with sunlight. I have tiny wrists, which form an oddly beautiful counterpoint to my broad shoulders. My hands are knobbly, but well muscled and scarred. I like the knobbly bits as an artist, because it shows how they kinesthetically work. My fingernails are short, a few brutally so, because I bite them.
          My back is well sculpted and well defined. I've seen models and figure models with backs less smooth and sculpted. You can see the line of my spinal column, but none of the knobs unless I bend. There are no folds or lines of flab unless I turn a good 45*. My shoulder blades are like hidden wings: invisible in the milky whiteness until I move my arms. I'm rather proud of my back, especially with all I ask it to do and the injuries it has seen.
          My chest is one many women want: tiny ribcage with large tits. One does sag a tetch, but it is the one Geek favors playing with. The skin is smooth. There is a tiny mole just to the right of my right boob. I like the moles and freckles, it adds a flavor of uniqueness to an otherwise too perfect canvas. There is a scar down the middle of my chest that might lead you to believe I've had heart surgery. Believe it or not, it's just a stretch mark. My ribs only show if I twist or turn, and even then, it's faint. A healthy human rarely has visible ribs in a relaxed position.
          My waist is tiny and extremely well defined. Between that, the broad shoulders, and the birthing hips, I have a classical hourglass figure, one that women torture themselves and their organs for. I am incredibly lucky in that I'm not short or long waisted. You can see my waist from all angles.
          My stomach, while not washboard flat, is sexy in it's own way. I have the belly of a swimsuit model: defined, but not a six pack. If I slouch, the definition goes away. I generally have decent posture, if only to take advantage of what little height I do have. My belly is one most women would tape to their fridge as inspiration. I'm not really proud or not proud of it.
          My hips were a bane of contention for most of my life. I was irate that god would give me a perfect figure until the hips, which had a sudden "bulge" to them, like someone had tacked on some extra clay over the hips and forgotten to blend it up. I looked through an artist's eyes and saw a true set of hips. I was merely expecting my hips to be higher thn they actually are and accusing my hips of being imposters. Looking at my body from collarbone to hipline, it mimics the little wooden figure modeling dolls, save that my body is smoother in the connections. I also realize that part of the extra in my hips is muscle from my thighs and ass.
          I have an ass that would make your stereotypical black girl weep. Firm, round, and extremely well built from years of carrying a backpack and walking everywhere. Smooth, no hints of cellulite (unless I stand in a less than ideal position.) Another swimsuit model body part. For as little effort as I've put into my ass, I'm inordinately proud of it.
          My thighs are defined when I flex and beautifully taut when I don't. I have the thighs to prove I walked everywhere: muscle atop muscle. Governator, eat you heart out. Not only are they gorgeous, well made hunks of meat, they help me to carry a pack or a kid weighing 85% what I do. I have the thigh gap that is supposedly so beautiful, but smooshing the muscle together when I press my knees together means it's more of a shadow than a gap. I'm fine by that. I'd rather have muscle on my bones, that not.
          My knees are Scandinavian, in that they're well rounded when I have them partially bent and knobbly at any other time. You can see my patella most of the time, and follow the muscle across the joint on either side. When I sit cross legged, you can see the definition between my tibia and femur.
          My calves are defined nearly constantly, but not in a body builder way. You can tell it's muscle, not flab, though. It's shapely and well built.
          My legs in general are relatively long for my shape and well built enough I can get away with mini skirts (not that I own one) and pencil skirts. I look damn good in a skirt, if I do say so myself.
          My ankles and feet are tiny, if knobbly and bony. If I flex, you can count the tendons and bones. My arch is extremely high, and I have long monkey toes with knobbly joints. On both feet, the ring toe is tilted inward about 20*.
          On the whole, I really love my body. I remember one of my thoughts looking the mirror was "women would kill to look this good... and have died to look this good." I feel no guilt. I have worked long and hard to get to where I am, both in terms of looks and body acceptance.
          Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, steak in one hand, chocolate in the other, yelling "Holy F***, What a Ride!"
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          • For those who weren't able to make AT's jump, "pepper juice" is the soaking water the peppers were in.
            AT, that puerco WAS tasty. We generally don't do sauce unless it's part of the dish, like asado, curry, or rojo. If it goes on the grill, it stands on it's own. If I do a roast, it's generally a wet rub (garlic, olive oil, pepper, and whatever else I add that day.)
            Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, steak in one hand, chocolate in the other, yelling "Holy F***, What a Ride!"
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            • Interesting exercise. Thank you for sharing that. It is perhaps something I will undertake when I have better access to a large mirror.
              Depression Lies

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              • Gosh, I am light years away from looking at my body and thinking positive thoughts. My face is ok but from the neck down all I can see are the flaws. You have inspired me to start to be kinder to myself.

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                • I can't take all the credit on this one. Mentor AND Geek have been after me to be kinder to myself, inside and out. The inspiration came from looking at figure models for inspiration for a piece. A rather large nude model was posed, quite comfortable in her own skin. Then I thought "if I can see the beauty in one society would reject as distasteful, why can I not see it in myself?"
                  Clarkie, it took me some time to see myself as the beauty everyone else sees. For a decade or so, all I could see was an awesome musculature and armature overlaid with flab and badly placed clay. I will say that everyone has their own beauty. I will also pass along the words Mentor used to start me on my path: "You aren't perfect, and that's ok. Perfect is boring. I love you for who you are, [flaws], beauty, and all."
                  Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, steak in one hand, chocolate in the other, yelling "Holy F***, What a Ride!"
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                  • Thanks, I really should spend more time looking at Rubenesque type paintings. Cuz I fit right in with those babes, lol! But seriously I guess after a lifetime of comparing myself to society's ideal I need to get over it. It's brought me nothing but feelings of disappointment and inadequacy.

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                    • If you keep doing the same thing, you'll keep getting the same result. "Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results."- Albert Einstein.
                      It'll take time. I do challenge you to go look in the mirror, nude. Find one thing you like about each and every body part. It could be minute("I like that freckle"), it could be a revelation ("I've always loved my shoulders"), or it could even be functional ("I love how strong my back is.") If you are not strong enough to do that yet, then do it for one or two body parts. Finding something you love removes the ability to have only hate for that body part and leads to the path of self love.
                      Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, steak in one hand, chocolate in the other, yelling "Holy F***, What a Ride!"
                      My Latest Journal

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                      • Wow Naidknight your exercise sounds like it was really powerful. Louise Hay (You Can Heal Your Life) has a similar exercise that starts small as you suggested for Clarkie.

                        I am not sure I could be as descriptive as you but I think I love my body. I have many battle scars (cancer) and view my body as strong in private. In public I still don't like having my photo taken and often ask people to crop or delete photos of me.

                        Your post has me thinking about the public me and private me perhaps it's time to stop society dictating how I feel about myself.
                        So thank you!
                        Last edited by jacmac; 01-03-2014, 05:56 PM.
                        link to my journal http://www.marksdailyapple.com/forum/thread97129.html

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                        • Jac, I often ask for people not to post photos including me online. Heck, it usually takes a holiday or a miracle for someone besides Geek to get a photo of me anyways. It's not out of a distaste for my body, but a request for privacy. I also still have days where all I see are the little toothpick or the larger version of myself. Oddly enough, those are the days I'll request someone to photograph me, or I'll photograph myself and intentionally crop the head out. This is so I can see myself without it being"me," and get a better grasp on what my body actually looks like, as opposed to what it looks like superimposed by what headspace I'm in.
                          Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, steak in one hand, chocolate in the other, yelling "Holy F***, What a Ride!"
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                          • Hmmm... it would appear my bra size has changed AGAIN, into even more "impossible" territory: 28DD. I'm half a breath away from just starting to MAKE my own damn bras and underwear. I have several pairs of underwear I wouldn't mind sacrificing to make a pattern. It's the bra that has me twitchy. I think I have one that would be an ideal pattern, but I really don't want to cut it up because it's still in really good shape. That, and I haven't worked with elastic before, EVER, and I'm still a little shaky on curved seams.
                            Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, steak in one hand, chocolate in the other, yelling "Holy F***, What a Ride!"
                            My Latest Journal

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                            • This is a very powerful exercise.

                              I am fortunate in having quite good perspective on my body. I spent my young childhood constantly being told I was bonny. It was only later I associated this as not quite being pretty because I was chubby. I remained overweight, I don't think I would have ever grown out of my puppy fat, but I don't think I would have ended up obese if the school hadn't interfered in my early to mid teens. I can't blame the PE teacher as she was just as much a victim of conventional wisdom, and it was even worse back then.
                              I guess always felt out of place because I never had a serious boyfriend through my teens, but with hindsight this was more likely because I was a geek than I was overweight. I got my fair share of kisses and passing interest.
                              My face is attractive, when it isn't bloated. And I could probably even stay at the weight I am now and be comfortable, but it was those further three stones that I have now lost that made me not myself. However, it is the fact that I want to be fit and strong that make me want to look good aesthetically as well

                              I still think this would be an interesting exercise for me though, especially as I get more and more in touch with my body as the weight comes off.

                              Thanks very much for sharing

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                              • I took some pics on Wednesday to mark the start of my Paleo journey. I will definitely be cutting my head out of those. It was painful to look at my damaged legs. I can't believe that I was brave enough to bare them in FL last week.
                                Primal since 9/24/2010
                                "Our greatest foes, and whom we must chiefly combat, are within." Miguel de Cervantes

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