Yesterday was the 53rd anniversary of Marilyn Monroe’s
death. A tortured soul, if you believe what is written about her, she never found what she was searching for in her life. Marilyn died of a barbituate overdose at the young age of 36.
While growing up, Twiggy, was the rage. Other than the pixie haircut my Mom gave me, there was nothing about me that was Twiggy. Even as a child I had cheeks and was healthy. The Twiggy look my friends strived for was out of my reach. I was not stick thin like Twiggy or the models in the magazines and television that represented women. I remember thinking, “I’m in big trouble, I’ll never be pretty like them.”
I have a very clear recollection of the Life magazine my Mom bought that featured Marilyn on the cover in August 1964. I looked at her pictures, I thought she looked like the other women in my life. Marilyn had breasts, belly, and hips. Finally, a woman I could relate to that the world thought was attractive.
So began my love for Marilyn. As I grew into womanhood, being small in stature and plenty of curves, she became my standard that you don’t have to look like a waif or a little boy with breasts to be attractive. To this day, I keep Marilyn around me to remind myself that what I see in magazines, internet, and television don’t define all women. Happily for me and Marilyn — breasts, belly, and hips are attractive and sexy on a woman.
Today I am thankful ..
~ Time with my best friend, Torria
~ My Dad is pain-free right now
~ I am looking forward to the weekend
To all of my women friends, rock your body, you are beautiful!
affectionately yours, Laura