Female, 25.

1 Jan

I am neither a disaster nor an inspiration. No resolution fits, really. I could lie and say I’m ready to let go of the 45 extra pounds padding my frame, but winter’s cold and I don’t feel equip to be beautiful, not yet. I could promise to serve the hungry after I clock out from the office, but I barely have the energy for mircowave popcorn some evenings. I could make it to the eighth or ninth, whittling down my debt by following some book discouraging my morning Americano, but really, why?

In 2011, a painful breakup and subsequent blog project led me into “The Perfectly Imperfect Year”. As I grew more comfortable with failure, a funny thing happened, success became easier. I found a job I cared about, one that offers a 403(b) and encourages pantyhose and natural hair colors. I began to limit my circle of friends and seek relationships within my faith and social service communities. I demanded more for myself as I tried, and tried again. In 2012, there’s not much left to resolve, except for honesty and consistency. Anais Nin wrote in her diary¬† “One handles truths like dynamite. Literature is one vast hypocrisy, a giant deception, treachery. All writers have concealed more than they revealed.”

Ignoring my training, for purposes of this blog, I am not a writer. I am Female, 25. This may be raw, naked, awkward. Thankfully, this blog is pretty low on Google search results for “naked 20something women”. A self-indulgent chronicle of 2012, free therapy, a respite from facebook, this blog serves as a project ,in earnest,that 2012 is not the end of the world, but the beginning.

To the New Year and the Nude me,

Truths Like Dynamite.

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