Nicki Minaj?!?

She’s just sitting there, looking at me with those big green eyes…trying to pay attention to the words coming out of her momma’s mouth.

The problem with Momma is that there are SO many words coming out of her mouth…it’s difficult to hear them all. She’s always trying to tell me something important. How many more important things can there be for her to tell me???

Is she really hearing all of this? She looks like she’s getting it, but something tells me that she’s perfected that look…

I hope she doesn’t see that I’m totally lost with this conversation…I’d hate for her to start over.

***

Bless our daughters’ hearts! This morning my oldest told me that I looked like Nicki Minaj, however you spell her name, in a top that was too small for me…and I was all, “How do you know about Nicki Minaj?!?” Then she brought up plastic surgery and I just about fell out. The first thing I noticed was the way that she regarded plastic surgery, like it was a terrible thing for someone to have done to themselves. I made sure to tell her – In all of my explaining – “It’s not your business what someone else does to their body. You don’t know their reasons and more to the point, it doesn’t matter what you think about it anyway.” Then I carried on explaining to her that some women get sick in their breasts and have to have them removed, so they have them redone. She agreed that that was an acceptable reason for having plastic surgery.

But is that enough? Does she really need to go through life only accepting what she can wrap her mind around?

Well, I guess since I could see MYSELF doing that…then it’s okay for you to.

The fact of the matter is that since I can’t ever see myself making the decision to augment my own breasts, I have difficulty understanding why you would want to have it done to yours. See, the problem with this logic is that I’ve always been quite proportional, physically speaking, so why would I ever have to really deal with this subject?

My point is this…It’s easy for me to jump to conclusions about your life decisions – Especially when I have no idea what I’m talking about. I can look at you and say, “Oh, she/he shouldn’t be doing that. I would NEVER make that decision.” Then turn around and live my life completely outside of your circle…with no clue what you’re really going through. I want my children to see other people and the decisions that they are making in their lives and choose to love and respect – Not to assume and reject.

I’m not sure if my sweet daughter heard all of what I was trying to explain to her…but I know that if I tell her enough times – That a beautiful woman is strong and confident in her own skin – That a beautiful woman builds other women up, doesn’t tear them down – That a beautiful woman loves others through the eyes of Christ… that she’ll remember Momma’s words when it really counts.

Love y’all…Beck

P.S. If I weren’t such and extremist…I’d totally get work done – But once I started…I could NEVER stop!;) XOXO

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Its a curvy path, y’all…

Random thoughts that crossed my mind today…

***

I don’t care if he’s a kid…I’m about to go off. That’s right…Momma bear, right here.

Michael is so fine.

Bacon.

Bacon.

Bacon.

No to bacon:(

I don’t think I could drive a log truck if I had the training.

She’s gonna slap me one day.

I really am a freaking genius.

Michael is fine.

Idiots. People are idiots.

Keep being idiots, folks…You’re making me feel better about myself.

It’s raining sunshine.

I’m too much like a man…If a man had double Ds and a recurring stank attitude.

Michael is fine.

I’ll tell them what they don’t know they want to hear…Everything will be JUST fine.

Don’t fart.

Don’t fart.

Don’t fart.

Don’t stink.

Don’t stink.

Don’t stink.

Split this scene, Jean.

***

I didn’t have the bacon for breakfast…I’ll have cake for lunch.

Michael is fine.

One more piece…Why not.

I hate Facebook articles.

I need a hug from Bruce.

Log truck driving would really suck…I mean stink. No, it would def suck.

I should change my sheets tonight…Or just brush the crumbs off. 

Ed Sheeran and I would do a rockin’ duet. 

Black hair, don’t care.

Michael is fine.

***

I think that’s enough…I could go on and on…

🙂 Love y’all!

Thrive.

A poem…For those of you that thought you were one thing, and then figured out that you could be another. XOXO, Beck

***

Fish thrive in water,
No way to swim on land.
I’m treading asphalt all day.
Makes no sense,
Back stroking where I stand.
Sometimes, the facts don’t matter…
‘Cause here I am…
Drowning in this concrete ocean,
Pulled under by my current situation.

***

I’ll be a fish,
‘Cause I’ve got to swim.
No way to sink
In this ocean.
These waves,
They’re gonna cleanse me…
Gonna give me strength,
The strength I need…
The strength I need
To breathe.

***

Get me to the ocean, feet!
Move like you’ve never
Moved before.
Gain me some distance
From my hot, sandy shore.
The sky’s fraternal twin…
This ocean,
Is ready to swallow me up…
Ready to give me freedom…
Ready to give me what…
I’ve been searching for,
More.

***

I’ll be a fish,
‘Cause I’ve got to swim.
No way to sink
In this ocean.
These waves,
They’re gonna cleanse me..
Gonna give me strength,
The strength I need…
The strength I need
To breathe.

***

It doesn’t make sense…
But it’s under this water
That I’m gonna learn
To survive…
That I’m gonna learn to thrive.
Cause I’ll trust,
Not in my own ability
To breathe,
But in He that first breathed
Life into me.

***

I’ll be a fish,
‘Cause I’ve got to swim.
No way to sink
In this ocean.
These waves,
They’re gonna cleanse me…
Gonna give me strength,
The strength I need…
The strength I need
To breathe.