A friendly PSA

It’s been a hell of a month for ol’ Amy’s brain. It’s been a constant barrage of “fat ass” and “sea cow” and “oh my god, you’re so disgusting, Amy Morby,” and it’s a little exhausting. And by that, I mean it’s a lot exhausting. Like–infinitely exhausting to the point where I want to pull out all of my stupid pixie cut hair and scream “I JUST WANT TO PLAY POKEMON LEAVE ME ALONE WORLD!”

I thought we could all use some friendly reminders:

It’s ok to eat.

It’s ok to like to eat.

It’s ok to like to eat not healthy foods sometimes.

It’s ok to really, really, really hate when people talk about dieting/exercising around you. Walk away and sing David Bowie in your head to clear the triggers.

It’s ok to not have a flat stomach because nobody cares.

It’s ok to not love fitness. And it’s ok to not own a fitbit so you obsess over it.

It’s totally ok to like bread. In fact, get real. It’s the best.

It’s ok to have shitty body days when you feel like the largest person in the room. BREAKING NEWS: it wouldn’t even matter if you were the largest. And anyone noticing that is a piece of shit not worth your time. I know this from experience. Don’t let anyone ever tell you, “I like when you’re around! You make me feel not as big.” Yeah. Don’t. They’re stupid. They are ignorant. They don’t know what you’ve been through nor what you’ll continue to go through to make it through the day. So tell them to suck a bag of dicks.

It’s ok to hate summer because it’s the time when you feel most triggered. It’s the season of self-loathing. When none of the skimpy clothes feel quite right on your body. Sure, it would be great if you could say FUCK IT! ALL OF THE TANK TOPS AND BIKINIS! And sometimes I can say that. But it’s ok to sometimes have days where I can’t say that. It’s ok to tell myself on these days, “Hey, Amy–you’re cool. Chill.”

It’s ok to eat what you want to eat and not beat yourself up over it.

It’s ok to just be, aight?

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Just a friendly PSA from your neighborhood self-love renegade Amy Morby. Don’t forget it.

Fear and loathing

I’m back from vacation trying to forget how much I hate reality checks. My coworker has a sign in his office that says “my reality check bounced,” and that’s pretty much the truth.

I’m listening to the new Jenny Lewis album for the fifth time through and trying to decide if I’m going to go through with grad school or not. And if I’m really going to move to Seattle. I’m trying to reconcile my need for a life of no obligations with America’s insistence on workaholic tendencies. I’m trying to research a career with happy animals. And what all-inclusive resort would be best for our 6th anniversary.

Mostly I’m trying to make my bounced reality check fix itself so I can stop being so frustrated at real life.

Kids, don’t ever grow up. Stay young and free forever.

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