Beauty and society and my daughters

I love my husband, deeply.

And with that love comes an acknowledgement that we are very different creatures, different habits, different thought processes, even different ways and styles of wearing clothes. And some days that's hard but most of the time I simple appreciate that we have the opportunity to learn from each other and grow from each other. Today though the thought hit me that I can't wait for the day Ben has the opportunity to call our daughters beautiful. That his soft words can influence them. 

Bens view is different than mine, so different. He thinks all my flaws are perfect, he has never once criticized me. He loves me for the way I am and has shown me how to look at myself differently. And how to love myself differently. He knows no one is perfect, and doesn't think that everyone has to look the women in TV to be beautiful. 

I have always enjoyed this little fact, but it wasn't until this day that I have considered how much this positive outlook on beauty will affect the daughters we will raise. How much good he will do.  How much he can stop the twisting of thoughts to look for thigh gaps, or a perfect jaw line, to hate any jiggle on their body or extra skin around their waist. 

I don't think I caught how much damage had been done to me until I married Ben and would bring these imperfections of mine to his attention only to discover, to my horror, that he hadn't even noticed! He hadn't taken the time to study exactly how unsymmetrical my curves were. No mind had been paid to the extra fat on my thighs. He has still never commented on the unsightly girth of my waistline. And odd as it sounds he enjoys my back fat, once I pointed it out to him Ofcourse. It's been an interesting process slowly going through each part of me that society said was unacceptable, unattractive, useless and ugly and see how much Ben DOESNT CARE. 

I can't wait to give that shield to our daughters. Prepare them for the war on beauty that they will face. Have him there with his glowing positivity ready to tell them society is wrong and they are

Perfect. 

I'm gettin real sick and tired of your crap society

Okay this is a vent. A BIG one. So back off if your sick and tired of Kayla's crap.

I'm a big fat fatty. AND I LOVE ME. There. I said it. I have weighed 250 pounds before. I STILL weigh over 200 pounds. But I'm okay with it. I know what I look like. I can look great. I can look horrible. I can be sexy (just ask my husband. He think I'm freakin Scarlett Johanson). So get off me society. Get off me skinny jeans, get off me fat neck and jiggly thighs, get off me "bat" arms, and don't even get me started on back fat. I know. I have them all (Not the skinny jeans thing, I just hate them, I always feel like a frog).

I'm great. I have a Father in Heaven that loves me. I have a father in Las Vegas that adores me. I have a mom that thinks I'm "cool" yeah, what up? I can laugh and I can make others laugh. I can love little children. I can look at nature and feel peace. I can go away for a weekend with my husband and come back and love him MORE than when we left. I can clean my house. I can make a baby (I haven't proven that one yet). But I can do the stuff that makes babies! And have fun! I can reach out and help someone that is down. I can read scriptures and say prayers and give service and feel Heavenly Fathers happiness in me. I learn and grow. I can walk for goodness sakes! How incredible is that?! If for that reason only, I know I have a perfect body!

I've recently started running and it's amazed me at what my body can do! How truly strong it is. But I don't think i'm doing it for the right reasons. I did it so that I could become better than other people. Stronger. Faster. Thinner. And that mentality is killing me. So I'm changing that too. I'm doing this for me. To love my body because it can get up and do wonderful things. To keep my body for a long time. To feel good inside and out. I'm not better than anyone. I'm not prettier because I can run. I'm prettier because I can love.

So to all you runners out there hoorah! And all you runners who aren't running today hoorah too!! We're all children of God.

So I have cellulite and stretch marks and I jiggle from time to time (or all the time [I don't keep count people]).

I have a problem: I compare myself to others. And I didn't know how bad it was. And then I got married. And I had to lean on my husband to MAKE me feel pretty. And that isn't fair. Not to him. And in the end it isn't enough. It never will be. No matter how many people call me beautiful. I have to love me for me. Or else I won't be good enough. Not to me at least. I will never be good enough until I tell myself I am. So I am. Right here. In front of....the internet....

I'm good enough. I am divine. For so many reasons. Hundreds. Thousands. Way more than my faults. And I hope everyone sees that.

This is what brought it on. Real sick and tired of you society. Real tired.

The heart apocolypse

So the man that was texting me, the one that saved the day, his name is Ben Downard. When I came home from my mission Ben and I kept in contact via facebook and then cell phones. Well I wasn't into him. I went to the singles ward, ish, and was hung up on some other guy. Well the guy I was hung up on was kind of....mean...ish. And the boys in the singles ward were....the same. It stunk. I just got done being friends with EVERY GUY IN THE WORLD (cause that's all you can be as a missionary, friends, so it was super easy) and then I came home and came back to "we don't talk/hang out/be friends/I don't put any effort into you unless I want to marry you". And it stunk. I hated it.

So as I was talking to Ben about my man woes and we joked about marrying each other (he had lady woes). And that slowly escalated. Which was kind of...hard for me. I really wasn't ready to get married. I was very closed off and way too independent and very..done with the opposite sex. I was extremely into simply taking care of me.

Well one night, after Bens confession that he really would like to marry me and he actually did love me (I said he didn't) in a moment of sheer panic, um excuse me Ben's beautiful [for seriously]) I said "Well what if I suck at kissing?" (let's go back to this post [less than ten fingers people I ain't no pro here]) and he said "Then we'll practice." And my whole world just...exploded. I had never ever EVER in a million years had a man that would "practice" kissing with me if I sucked. EVER. Ben would be willing to put in the effort and work with me BECAUSE I WAS WORTH IT.

And in that moment my heard did this weird banshee thing and that was it, I was hooked.

Pause on the story, random thought time.

Okay so I'm trying to get back into blogging, it's slow going, but I had a thought hit me today that I wanted to blog (always a good sign!) and it was this:

Only the helpless damsel needs a knight in shining armor.

I recently got married, which is incredible given my posts from two years ago (a miracle even!), and I was out driving in the rain and a thought hit me that I really wished Babes (aka the husband) was the one driving me because he does so well in the rain. Then a little swell of pride hit because I knew I could drive in the rain and I was doing it, and well btw, hadn't hit a thing! And oddly enough that thought made me really happy. Super happy. And I pondered how, even though my husband wasn't perfect (ie. he doesn't chauffer me everywhere when it rains), we were still a wonderful happy couple because I can drive myself in the rain.

Which led to the above mention thought: Only the helpless damsel needs a knight in shining armor. Now I'm not saying that you don't need something good, or great, or wonderful, just that he probably won't be a knight. But that's okay because only that lone helpless damsel needs him. You need someone else. Now that someone might be Mr. I chauffer in the rain cause she hits walls. Or Mr. I like to snuggle and I snuggle her out of bad moods. Or maybe Mr. I don't touch her when she's mad, I back away and buy chocolate and flowers and I'm good at it. Who knows.

My point was: be happy with your strengths and find the person that helps with your flaws and you can help with his. Life will never be perfect, so find your strengths, strengthen your flaws and always always always find ways to be happy. There is no other way to live!!

Alive Again

Going on a mission, in one sense, is a lot like dying. You die from the world, you die from TV, you die from family, you die from everyone and everything that you once knew. BUT you get a new life, a new birth, you become this person that never turns on electronics to distract herself, you work 24/7 and have a schedule 24/7 and become this person who learns to truly depend on Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ to help heal the hurt because you have NOTHING else to take it away. It's there 24/7, just like the work that calls your every attention. It's hard, it's long, it's frustrating, it's weird and it's rewarding.

And then one day you leave that world and go home. And that's like dying all over again. The difference is that you fall flat on your face because this new world is hard and mean and cold and empty. But it's your old world. Your old you. An old shell that you have to try and fit the new you into. Needless to say it's been hard.

But then an interesting thing happened. I started talking to this boy...

This is the end.

This is it, my last day at home. Tomorrow I hit the road. The popping of fireworks still disrupts the air like a celebration of my farewell and I love it.

I've been set apart. And it was magical. A peace has settled deep in my soul.

I'm happy. Happy and excited and ready and....peaceful.

I have had things promised to me that seem....magical. I have things that I now want, want with my heart and soul, want almost as much as I want to teach Indians. I'm obviously still greedy.

So, this is my goodbye.

It's been fun. It's been crazy. It's been unexpected. And man am I glad it's finally here.

I love you my blogger readers.

I just have to take a moment and say: Laura, you are amazing. Very amazing. Super amazing. Your comments make me laugh and giggle and shy and happy all at the same time. I can't wait to come back and amuse you some more. And thank you for coming to my farewell, that was magical as well. Seeing your smiling face, so unexpected, my heart burst with joy that I probably didn't convey very well given how crazy anxious I was about talking. I thank you for that parting gift, it was one of my favorites.

I hope everyones heart is full this Fourth of July. I hope you stay safe and appreciate all that is around you while those beautiful explosions fill the air.

If you would like to write me, or want me to write you, my MTC address is as follows:
Sister Kayla Obriann Hanshew
MTC Mailbox # 193
OK-TUL 0727
2005 N 900 E
Provo, UT 84604-1793

Yeah I know, it's long, but worth it. Have a wonderful life for the next eighteen months, and know, you will be missed! BYE! :) I'm off to do great things.

I wished I lived in Sky City-But instead of I'm going to Oklahoma

I've been waiting to write this amazing post, something that was creative and lyrical and beautiful, and nothing has been coming. I leave in a day and a half and I have nothing to say except this:

I'm so freaking excited I can't hardly see straight.

And the best part: I didn't feel like that a few days ago.

A few days ago I was moping, sad, heart broken, clutching at everything and everyone to make sense of a situation I had no control over. I want to vent, heck I did write a vent, a mean and nasty vent with words that would hurt. But I'm not going to post it. And that is why I haven't been able to blog. I've been too tied up in my emotions. Normally I'm very hard and fast, mad or not, mad and very quickly going to get over it, or not mad at all, never mad, don't know who said I was mad but I ain't. But not this time. This time I was....hurt.

And because my friend never talked to me, never asked me about the situation, never gave me the time to try and explain all I can do is say: I'm sorry.

That's it. That's all.

I'm sorry. What I said was...dumb. While it may have been true, I shouldn't have said it.

There it is. The five day accumulation. I went through all the motions, confused, angry, sad, distraught, more angry, super duper angry, never ever going to apologize angry, and now I'm just.....done. I admit my fault in it. I apologize. 

And now to the important stuff:  Me leaving!!!! Ahhhhhhh.

Crazy!! But the best part: I'm so excited. Insanely excited. All my fear is gone and I'm going to kick butt excited. I want to teach. Man do I want to teach. I want to befriend and help and hope and pray and ponder and wonder and awe. I want to feel the Savior so close to me that I wonder if I look behind me quick enough if I will see him. Standing there, a small smile on his face, pride and hope in his eyes, his hands scarred and withered, ushering me forward, telling me I'm doing okay.

I want it all.

I want to teach Native Americans. INDIANS!!! Yes. I want to teach them. Of course when I say that I picture myself reenacting the first Thanksgiving simply with less anger and a BOM under each arm.

I want to see a tornado. TORNADO. And yes, my chances are pretty good.

I want to see double lightening, yeah, that happens out there. I'm cool, I know.

I want to wear the name tag that gives me the power to share this Gospel like no other.

Call me greedy but I want it all. I want to be worthy of it all. I want to work so hard that I can't keep my head up at night. I want to pray so hard my hands hurt. I want to work so closely with my Father in Heaven that I'll know he's my Father in Heaven, that I'll feel he's my Father in Heaven, that I'll willingly sacrifice cause he's my Father in Heaven, without thought.

I want it all. And I especially want those Indians.