Learning Self Love.

When I was younger, much younger, my friends and I would go to the MegaDisco.

If I remember rightly, it was a monthly event at our local leisure centre, a disco aimed at 13-18 year olds where we could pretend we were slightly older than we actually were.

The thing I remember the most about these events is the competition to kiss as a many boys as possible.

I don't know why I thought this was a good idea.

My friends didn't particularly take part, it was mostly my sister and I. 
Probably mostly me.

I vaguely remember having a conversation with my Mum about it, her asking why on earth I'd want to kiss that many boys and me trying to explain that it was just for a laugh.

Obviously the thought of it now, in my slightly wiser years, makes me feel a bit queasy. 
Sharing that many germs....ugh. 
And the obvious lack of self respect.

A tad off topic, but quite recently we had a slightly inappropriate moment when my 5 year old boy kissed a older boy goodbye after a period of time playing together. The next day we had a small conversation about who we should maybe save our kisses for. 
I think the same applies here. 

Kisses shouldn't be for just anyone.

Earlier on Facebook I read an interesting meme which said that kissing induces the same feel good chemicals as cocaine. Whether it's true or not, I haven't investigated, but I know how I feel when I kiss my husband, I know that flood of.....what's the word, without sounding gross......yumminess. Whatever it is, it's completely lovely.

What kind of bothers me is that if I had a daughter, and she told me about this, would I let her go to the MegaDisco again?
No. 
No I wouldn't. 
At least not until she'd learnt to love herself more.

(Yes, I can hear what you're thinking...she's a teenager, she'll find another way to do the hell she wants, she'll just not tell you anymore, etc, etc. Man am I glad I don't have any little girls!)
What worries me the most is, where does it end? A long list of snog mates? A few fumbles in dark corners? A quick bang round the back?

I can't help thinking this was the beginning of something horrible.

I wish I had know years ago that my self worth is not connected to who fancies me, how many boys I've kissed....and all the junk that goes with that.
Like a 'gateway' drug, is a kissing competition the start of a life of promiscuity? Possibly.

Being a Mum is hard, so I'm not trying to be judgemental on my own, especially as her own Mother was such a rubbish role model, but I wish she'd loved herself more, and therefore shown me how to love myself more.
I wish I'd known how much I matter when I was younger. I would've enjoyed my younger years a hell of lot more! You know the saying, 'youth is wasted on the young'? It's so very very true. I spent years hating myself, searching for love and respect in all the wrong places, trying to find justification for the space I was taking up and all that useful air I was breathing. I spent years worrying about what other people thought of me, and using their twisted opinions as the basis for my self worth.

I wish, when we'd had that conversation about how many boys I'd kissed, I wish she'd pointed out how much more I deserved, how disrespectful it was, how the focus of my evening should have been my friends, having a good old boogie and a great night. 
Not about boys.

I wonder how many years of sobbing over the crappy things teenage boys do to teenage girls would have been saved if the nail had been hit on the head then.

Maybe none. Maybe most of them. We'll never know.

But one thing we know for sure. If we teach our kids self love and self respect, they'll be much better off for it. And the only way to teach those things is to practise it in front of them. 

No one can fool a child into learning to love themselves when they know Mummy doesn't like herself that much.
So, go look in the mirror, find something you love about yourself.
Find something you're really good at.
Think about your great friends and family, and how much they love you.
Be happy with who you are not who you think you should be, and surely your small people will follow happily behind.

When Is It Not Funny Anymore?

I haven’t written in a while, I've been a bit too busy to feel inspired to, but after reading this blog post, too many thoughts began to whirl around in my head. 
http://www.workingmotherchronicles.com/2013/03/what-we-must-learn-from-steubenville.html

This is the newspaper article refered to; 
http://www.nytimes.com/2013/03/18/us/teenagers-found-guilty-in-rape-in-steubenville-ohio.html?pagewanted=all&_r=1&

It started in the first year of high school. Most girls wore shorts under their skirts because the boys would all lift the girl’s skirts.
The whole ‘boys will be boys’ thing is ridiculous.

If, for example, a bloke lifted a woman’s skirt repeatedly in the workplace, he’d get charged for sexual harassment.

Or would he?

Would she just be seen as a moaning bitch with no sense of humour?

Quite recently, someone I care about was harassed at work.

Every day a particular person would comment on her dodgy parking.
It progressively got worse and worse.

He started to take photos of her parking every day.

Then he began waiting in the car park, just so he could watch her park, photograph it, then ridicule her all day for it.

She got to the point where her parking was even worse than usual (yes, it wasn’t that great to begin with, even she’ll admit that) simply because she felt so under attack.

Great prank uh?

I think this is the kind of thing you could do your bestest of friends, in a light-hearted manner, but not to a work acquaintance whom you don’t have that much fondness for.

Then it’s just malicious.

Of course, she explained to her superiors what was happening and they simply took his word over hers. She ended up on a stupid course to help her ‘improve her self-esteem’ (not required, trust me haha) and he suffered no consequences. She’s left feeling ostracised just because he crossed the line.

I’m not particularly beautiful but I've always had massive boobs.

I remember a particular incident in high school when the boys lined up to sit sideways from me. When I worked out why, I was shocked. It was all about checking out the profile of my boobs. For crying out loud.

I was sixteen.

Living in London, surrounded by men of various cultures, there were some who clearly viewed women as a play thing. There was no respect in their tone when they spoke to me, being an absolute stranger walking past, suggesting that I might be up for a good time.
 Don’t be fooled, I wasn’t wearing clothes which as a girl growing up “makes you look like you’re begging for it”. I was a rock chick, baggy jeans, wallet chain, black tee, huge hooded jacket and a frick load of black eyeliner. 
I could never understand what made these blokes think they could look me up and down like a piece of meat, what made them think they could presume I’d be interested, what made them think I the kind of girl to drop what I was doing, be it meeting friends or going to work, and go some place with them. 
Are there girls like that? 

And maybe there are a few girls like that, but mostly, we’re trying to catch a bus.

Why is it ok for a man to pinch a woman’s bum as she passes him in a crowded bar? I’m not going to buy the whole ‘if you go to places like that...’ thing. I think it’s only that we, as women, are often encouraged to ignore it or see it as a compliment that these things carry on happening.

But where is the line drawn?

“While we’re waiting for that to happen, perhaps the rest of us can make sure that we don’t dismiss all teasing as “not a big deal” because I think that if we learn anything from Steubenville, let it be the realization that this rape was the result of years of indifference.  Not only do we need to raise women who can rise above the words they’ll encounter, but we need to raise men who will recognize that a woman’s sexuality is not a joke.” 
Written by Erin in her blog entry; ‘What We Must Learn From Steubenville’ 18/3/13

I will never let my boys grow up to think they own a woman, or that a woman owes them anything. Thankfully, their father was brought up by his grandfather and retains some of his old-fashioned values. He is happy to help around the house and he sees my job and a house wife & mother as a 24 hour job, and therefore when he finishes work, is happy to pitch in, however exhausted he may be. He will make a fantastic role model for them both, and I hope they will become men who respect women as equals.  
But not only that, I hope that they will become men who treat everyone with respect. 
Men who know how far to take a joke, when to stop. 
Men who can stand up for themselves and say no.
Men who can stand up for others and not be indifferent or blasé about someone else's feelings. 

I’m not saying they’ll be perfect, but I do like a tryer.

(Please note; I'm not going to be one of those women who lets you think my life/husband/kids are perfect, they are not. Whatever I have said about my husband here, though true, doesn't leave him fault-less haha).