Someone just wrote me an email about the “I’m sorry I was a tool about my weight” post, saying:
I’m just not buying it. It’s your slant on what’s politically correct, vs. what Julia actually thinks.
No. It really was what I actually thought. Think, rather.
The photo above was taken in the New York Public Library over the summer. It hasn’t been photoshopped. I weigh exactly 138 pounds in it, and I am 5 feet and four inches.
I think I look damn good, if I do say so myself. Comfortable. Happy. Secure in my appearance.
That I lost this feeling – as women are wont to do for a variety of reasons (boyfriends dump us, stress invades our life, we see a gorgeous woman on the street who can actually pull off skinny jeans, whatever) – is the tragedy.
Let’s not lie to ourselves: we want to feel beautiful. But different women feel beautiful in different ways (duh) – and feeling beautiful is all in your mind, anyway. For me, it’s a giant gown and soft lighting. Although sometimes I’ve felt just as beautiful in PJs and no makeup. (And yes, sometimes – I will admit it – I’ve felt beautiful when I’ve been told by a man I love I look beautiful.)
I would guess Meghan feels most beautiful when she’s rocking a short jumper and heels. And I know Jordan felt beautiful on her wedding day.
Excuse the cheese of this question, because I’m genuinely curious: when did you feel most beautiful?
God, I get it, Butter Thighs! You are ugly, inside and out.