In Uncategorized on February 6, 2008 at 4:55 am

Dear elephant (that’s conveniently taken residence on my chest),

Okay. It’s not funny anymore, you can get up.

Yours truly,

Jamie Christa Marie Elizabeth Frost

How do I define myself? In my mind I open a book, turn the pages and there under “Jamie” is just smeared, blurred text. For so long I’ve wrote about how I want to find who I truly am, but that’s all my body will allow me to discover.. just the words.. the expression of wanting that discovery.

Who am I? I don’t know.

A lot of words that jump to my mind involve a physical image of myself. Perhaps that’s the best way to start understand who I am. What I feel & who I am might be different things, but it’s hard for me to pull that apart, it’s hard for me to see good inside this shell. I relax on the idea that I was punished in youth with being overweight, ackward, geeky, and.. not so groomed. Then I didn’t feel beautiful. Now I don’t feel beautiful.

I’m small. In the summer, when I run, I can even say I’m petite. This makes people call me cute. I’m pale and I burn easy, which makes my freckles even sharper. My nose is small, narrow and upturned slightly at the end. My lips are always in a smirk, not quite a smile, but at least a pleasant look. My whole body came in miniature size, right down to my size six feet. I’m cute. I get it.

I’m not beautiful.

Perhaps it’s just a stigma that I can blame on watching Tyra too often or on the media in general, but honestly.. who doesn’t want to feel beautiful? I’m sure I could create some small list of attributes that I could be positive about, but it’s just toppled over by the negatives weighing down in my mind.

I’m emotional.
I’m a woman, I’m “supposed” to be. No, wrong. I have hormones that force me to act like a crazy, rampant, teary eyed mess. Instead of crying when I got home yesterday, I cleaned. Sniffed, but cleaned. It scares me that I reverted into the shell I thought I broke, but it wasn’t a time to cry. Just like the doctor said, “It’s all in my head”… somewhere up there. Maybe this elephant is crushing the answer to my problem.

At least I’m evening out. Wow, how about I sound a little more like a junkie? An estrogen junkie. It makes me think of those rectangular plastic boxes with a substance that resembles lava lamp fluid. The ones you rock back and forth to make the movement of waves crash through the confines. When I was little, I used to shake them and send the liquid into a million separate bubbles. That, my friends, is my estrogen analogy. My bubbles are finally forming back into a whole person.

This disease irritates me. If I had to pick an emotion to describe it best, I’d say I’m angry with it. Where does it get off changing the whole schematic of Jamie! Last week I swear I was going bald. I’m just losing my hair all together instead of over a span of time. A hormonal problem. The pain, yeah.. I covered that. Hormonal problem. My one day I’m losing my pants. The next they look two sizes too small. It’s just a hormonal problem. My body hair is darker then it should be. I have to bleach. It’s a hormonal problem. Chronic tension headaches. Yep, hormonal problem. This elephant.. yeah, that too.

My name is Jamie Frost.

I’m five foot tall.
For the last four years I’ve been a constant one hundred and thirty pounds.
I have shoulder length chestnut hair.
My eyes match.
I get dark circles from allergies.
My eyebrows irk me because they grow back in so fast, I usually don’t do much about it, but bitch.
I’ve always wanted to get a nose job. It’s not necessary.
My freckles camp out on my nose & cheeks.
I’m pale as sin!
My lips are thin, so I can’t wear lipstick. Not a problem.
My teeth are straight, but have gaps. They’re definitely not as white as “they should be”.
Perhaps I’m partial to my smile, but I like it.
I touch my lips and the tip of my nose often.
I hide my face.
My ears exist.
34Cs + Natural = Naturally not as perky. Gravity, a friend of nature’s, should be a little nicer to natural.
I have stretch marks on the sides of my breasts, my hips, thighs, and under my arms. I was a fatty as a kid.
My hands always make me feel old.
I’m a lotion junkie. I turn the heat in my car up too high and too intense.
I bite my thumbs and index fingers, but the rest of my nails are awkwardly long.
I call everyone, “Woman”.
My legs aren’t short. My body, length wise, is in proportion.
My hips are curvy.
My tummy is soft. Two things I shouldn’t like, are two of the almost positive.
My feet are very petite.

Physical appearance is a hang up that I’d like to just, well, hang up on. Personality wise, I don’t think I’m a bad person. Perhaps a bit dry at times, a little hard to understand, a fumbler of words, but over all I’m just nice and warm. Not something you get from people very often. At work I get people who request me just from meeting me. Not to mention, I could literally sell milk to a cow.


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