Pride Over Pity

by Lowry, Kailyn

  I have only been to church once. I don’t pretend to have studied the religions of the world or to fully understand all that they embody, but I do believe that what my grandparents have endured is true faith. They have had a more powerful influence in my life than any flawed organized religion. Even at the peak of my grandfather’s hermit lifestyle, he still tried to help my mother. My grandparents played a large role in raising me during middle school. Sadly I don’t have any contact with my grandparents now. From what I head from family members, my mom created a hell of a story. She accused me of stealing $10,000 from Jo and told them I was headed to jail because I was charged with a felony. In reality, I didn’t do anything, but that could be the reason they cut me off.

  My grandparents do not want a funeral or any mourning when they die. My fear of regret is enormous. I feel like I can’t say my last goodbyes because they won’t respond. If anything were to happen, I don’t want to feel remorse on top of grief. I still leave voicemails every so often to update them on my life, but it sometimes feels like I am just pretending that they are still in my life. I hope they still care about me and Isaac.

  These painful struggles of my family are enough reason for me to turn my back on God and religion. I’m comfortable and satisfied with my own beliefs. There’s nothing anyone can say to change my view. I apologize if I have offended anyone.

  Javi’s family is religious. He doesn’t attend church or see himself as a practicing Catholic, however, because of his upbringing our children will be baptized so they can choose what they want for themselves in the future. I don’t want to impress any sort of belief system on them. Since baptism will allow Isaac the freedom of choice when he is older to remain Catholic or pursue a different vision, the choice for me was simple.

  I know very well religion and politics are controversial and contentious topics, but that is a flaw of our society. We should all strive for a higher level of tolerance. While I may not fully understand blind faith, I respect those who possess it. My grandparents are Methodists and their faith is what keeps them moving and fighting to live.

  My strong views on God and religion have gotten me into trouble in the past. I’ve had people tell me they can’t support me because I am an atheist. The religious versus the non-believers is bit like the tattoo debate. Is atheism dangerous? Are tattoos taboo? Tattoos are generally accepted because so many people have at least one. Atheism is similar. Acceptance of either atheism or tattoos is based on openness. If you’re not willing to accept the fact that I am an atheist then so be it.

  Chapter 16

  Ink Insanity

  I’ve always been attracted to tattoos and the people who have them. Tattoos represent who you are and your story. My latest piece is a full sleeve. I’m still working on it part by part with an artist. Right now, the inside is an anatomical heart and time bomb representing my short fuse and impatience. There are also skulls, representing the “skeletons in my closet,” alongside roses. The roses represent my mother. She actually has a tattoo of roses with stretch marks from her pregnancy running through the flowers. I feel like this tattoo is really the only significant bond we’ve ever had. The roses represent my past with her and are a symbol of the only remaining thread connecting me to the time I was living inside her as a baby.

  After Isaac was born, I needed to have some sort of tattoo for him. His name and birth date are not enough so I have dedicated my entire back to him. Since I’ve found an artist whose work I love, he has been helping me cover up previous work done by someone else. The piece I have now is a mess, but the part I love is the quote next to Isaac’s initials: To the world you are one person but to one person you are the world. At the moment it is still a work in progress, but we’re planning on covering up the design surrounding the quote. Hopefully I’ll be gaining a very large art piece I’ll be satisfied with. Definitely, a very painful procedure on the back, that’s for sure.

  My single piece on my thigh is a dream catcher. While I was in Texas, I found out that I have Native American blood on my father’s side. Like most of my other tattoos, the dream catcher holds a double meaning. To me, it is a powerful symbol that represents both my journey of self-discovery and my determination to realize my dreams despite obstacles thrown in my path.

  There are a few random ones I have alongside these bigger pieces. I used to have a puzzle piece that I decided to have removed. The mermaid along the outside of my arm is to remind me of how I should always view myself.

  I’m pretty open about how I feel and I’ve had some hateful comments toward this art form where the body is the canvas. I hate how people say it’s unattractive when girls get so many tattoos. It’s more acceptable to have a star on your inner forearm or a large tramp stamp that you’ll probably regret, but sleeves and larger pieces are viewed as trashy and ugly. I think tattoos make people more beautiful. It’s wearing little, true pieces of the inner you on the outside for the world to see. I’ve had criticism from people online saying how gross it is for a girl to be covered up in tattoos. To them, it’s impossible for a girl to be feminine and sexy yet love body modification. Sort of funny since guys seem to drool over Kat Von D and she obviously has quite a bit of work covering her entire body.

  I might take her as my inspiration because I don’t see myself stopping anytime soon. I’m finishing the sleeve I’m working on now and then the needle will find its way onto my other arm for another sleeve. Just to be a smartass, I’ll have two sleeves and still have a successful career and prove all the naysayers wrong. Tattoos aren’t taboo anymore. I know people who have their entire bodies covered by tattoos, yet work for major corporations in some of the top positions.

  I’ve always been a big believer in if it doesn’t hurt you then don’t get your underwear in a knot over it. Tattoos make me feel more complete and beautiful. It’s like going in for a new haircut or buying a new wardrobe. Okay, it’s a little more permanent than that. Tattoos are an extension of my motto: I’m always a work in progress.

  ***

  The backlash of criticism I received for my views on tattoos and religion was rough, but it was nothing compared to how I could tear myself down. I am my harshest critic. I have been obsessed with my weight since middle school. Fat was my enemy. Poor body image is something I have struggled to overcome my entire life. This issue is common among girls, but I took the obsession too far. Looking back at photos of me taken pre-Isaac, I can see that I was a healthy weight. But even back then, when I had an effortlessly thin body, I still wasn’t happy. I have never felt skinny enough, ever.

  Even as uncomfortable and ugly as I felt, I didn’t want to change my eating habits. I was a carbaholic. I loved bread, pasta, and potatoes. Green foods were foreign and flavorless. Fruits were okay. Eliminating carbs was like taking Toy Story figurines from Isaac. Don’t do it! It’s really not nice.

  If my food choices didn’t change, something else had to. The post pregnancy weight was hugging my stomach like a monkey on a tree. I tried a trainer. I tried cutting back. Refined sugar is in everything, I swear! The Chunky Monkey ice cream container staring down from the freezer racks mocked me. That was actually my mom’s nickname for me. Don’t most body image issues start at home? Mine did and it made me notice how all the other girls were so much daintier and petite than I was. My height always made me stick out. As a tall girl, I’m naturally going to weigh a bit more than other girls. Even though I was a healthy weight, the number on the scale seemed to matter more than the lack of fat on my body. I didn’t want to weigh triple digits.

  My self-esteem never matched the digits on the scale. It didn’t help to have a friend who based her thinspiration on underweight models’ tactics. She was bulimic and anorexic and she encouraged me to start down the same path. We were a pair of anorexic teenagers who became caught up in an unhealthy trend. Fortunately I had the sense to break the pattern while I was pregnant. Isaac needed nutrition and I wasn’t stupid or selfish enough to deny food to the baby growing inside of me.

/>   But I went back to my old habits shortly after Isaac was born. I stopped eating or opted for minimal items. I’d chew a piece of gum, that’s only five calories. I’d drink water to fill up my stomach. I realize now that these are stupid ways to lose weight, you end up gaining it back next week. But anorexia defies logic. You are literally starving your body of the nutrition it needs and the consequences can be deadly.

  Looking for better results, my habits took an even more dangerous turn. I’d do the most intense workout devised, Insanity—a home workout DVD that is supposed to help transform your body in sixty days. I’d do a forty-five minute session and then not replenish my body with water or nutrients. Instead, I would make myself throw up. That’s how desperately I wanted to be thin. Not a day went by, that I didn’t wish to be skinnier and to feel comfortable wearing whatever I wanted. Getting dressed in the morning should never be as difficult as I made it. I chose to wear sweatpants and leggings. Jeans were never an option. The number on the label indicating my pants size didn’t read beautiful to me. Whenever I looked in the mirror, I saw a “chunky monkey” staring back at me.

  Enough was enough. I decided that it was time for me to take back control of my body image. With age and maturity, I’ve learned that only I have the power to make myself feel good. I am the only one who can change my attitude towards my body. To boost my self-esteem and hopefully help others who have similar issues, I agreed to do a photo shoot for a campaign called, “Beauty is Sizeless.” The photographer, Katie Hedrick, contacted me and explained the project’s purpose of teaching others to value themselves in every way possible. She made me feel comfortable and empowered as she photographed me in a bright blue Betsey Johnson dress. Having my makeup and hair done brought out the confidence buried within. I decided to strive to keep this as my attitude on an everyday basis. A few months later we had chosen a specific shot. A black and white, soft light, flattering shot of me clad in a bra and jeans. I was wearing jeans and proud of my body, damn it! My quote on the photo reflected how I finally felt about myself. It said:

  The definition of true beauty is being a hundred percent comfortable in your own skin. It’s having confidence in yourself even if you don’t meet the standards of how others expect you to look. True beauty is the ability to love yourself and all the flaws you come with. When you love and respect yourself and wear your confidence, everyone else will see it.

  Size zero skinny jeans may not be hugging my hips anytime soon, but I no longer feel ashamed of my body. True beauty comes from within and being healthy is so much more important than the size you wear.

  Beauty Is Sizeless campaign

  Chapter 17

  The Three Rings of Marriage

  He passed! He passed! He passed! Flying colors and all, Javi passed the ASVB (Armed Services Vocational Aptitude Battery), the initial required test to enter the United States Air Force. The overwhelming excitement and sense of pride I felt, were paired with a hollowed-out pit in my stomach. Training camp in Texas was less than six months away so pushing the sadness down was like pretending Brussels sprouts were Snickers bars.

  Tough times were ahead, but we tried not to dwell on it. There’d be plenty of lonely days and nights for me to sulk. Since Javi would be leaving for basic training so soon, we agreed to put our marriage plans on hold. I had already decided that I wanted to go through the normal steps and get engaged, not just hitch up quickly and quietly. But even if we couldn’t get married yet, we still had plenty to celebrate and be thankful for. Javi’s career path was lining up neatly.

  A celebratory dinner out was in order. Early one day, a few weeks later, Javi took Isaac out and I sensed a devious, secret strategy being carried out by my two boys. I had no idea what they were up to, but obliged their request to keep their surprise a surprise. Later, I drove by myself to Honesdale, the town I grew up in, to meet them. Javi had chosen a restaurant very close to where my old house stood, which indicated nostalgia was important to our dinner. Javi was making this very special for me, even though the dinner was meant to be a celebration of his achievement.

  The mysterious instructions he’d left at home led me from Whitehall to this restaurant and up to the hostess. She handed me a cute scavenger hunt-like note:

  Almost found us. Walk out of the restaurant. Make a right. Go down to the steps and follow the path down to the lake. Hurry. We miss you.

  Your boys,

  Jav and Isaac.

  Isaac and Javi were exactly where they said they’d be, by the scenic Lake Wallenpaupack. They were clad in ties and each holding a bouquet of flowers. The gorgeous view and their gentlemanly attire pointed to a momentous occasion. What was happening? I had thought the three of us were out to celebrate Javi. His shaky smile indicated he was nervous and that made me nervous, too. I took Javi’s extended hands and listened to what he had to say,

  “Well, the real reason why I brought you out here is because this was your childhood. You were raised here. I felt like this was a part of your life I wasn’t part of. So I figured if I came out here, I felt like someway I would be part of it forever because you are my present now. What I really want to know now . . .” he knelt down on one knee, “is if you’ll marry me.”

  The ecstatic electricity running through my core made responding a challenge. I nodded enthusiastically, squealing, “Of course!” Wow. Wow. Wow. He proposed! I was engaged! What? I was both stunned and exhilarated. The hugs, kisses, and tears expressed our emotions because we were too overwhelmed to speak.

  The practical part came to the conversation as we settled down to our dinner. We weren’t engaged for me to just stare at the beautiful, shiny “Britney Spears inspired” ring. Javi’s obvious dedication to Isaac and me had been declared. Even as he prepared to leave for training, we had no question in our minds what the next step was. We wanted to be hearing wedding bells as soon as possible. Javi did me justice by following tradition and proposing to me in such a meaningful and romantic way. Looking back at Vegas, it was such a fleeting thought that seemed forever ago. The teetering back and forth had answered our questions. We were hesitant about eloping but now we were ready to start planning our wedding.

  Meanwhile, life was coming at us full speed and the days were counting down as Javi prepped for Texas. There was no time to plan a big ceremony, so we decided to go to the courthouse to get the legal formalities out of the way. Since I am an atheist, we had already agreed not to have a church ceremony and to focus on planning a big wedding celebration in the future.

  As joyful as I was to be getting married, truthfully I was a little disappointed that the ceremony would be happening in a courthouse. It all felt so matter of fact and unmagical. Every couple has to sign papers to get a marriage license, but this meant something a little different to me. Since the time constraint and our financial resources meant that I couldn’t have my dream wedding ceremony, I desperately wanted to turn the simplistic, legal rite into a special day.

  In retrospect, the experience surpassed my expectations of the day. The courthouse ritual was unexpectedly emotional and meaningful, despite my wanting a larger ceremony. I was crying like a baby as I said my vows because I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that we were meant to be together. There wasn’t a bone, muscle, or ligament in my body telling me the moment was wrong. Any onlooker could tell what I was feeling inside. It felt so right.

  Even though getting married at the courthouse wasn’t romantic, especially as dozens of people were also there to file for divorce, Javi and I were properly dressed for the occasion. I wore a simple, lacy ivory dress while Javi and Isaac had on button-downs and dress pants. Javi had his mother and Miguel, a good friend, to stand in as witnesses. The judge read a passage out of the Bible, which I wasn’t happy about but I decided to overlook it and focus on the vows we were told to repeat. Then, all of a sudden, we were officially married. That was it. The huge wedding–with dancing, cake, and champagne—that I wanted would hopefully be reserved for the fall. After all, Javi and I still
wanted to celebrate our marriage with those who loved us most. On the other hand, love doesn’t wait for life’s schedule to open up.

  There was one person I was worried wouldn’t take the news of our engagement quite so well. I hadn’t told Jo yet and I would have to explain what this would mean for him and Isaac. We had been getting along relatively well, but I was guessing any content period we’d had was inching toward the drain. In fact, Jo would probably full out hate me for what I was about to tell him.

  Javi’s military base placement would be somewhere other than Pennsylvania, which meant we could be moving a remarkable distance. Javi and had I made a commitment to one another, and Isaac and I would follow him wherever he was stationed. This obviously could have a huge impact on Jo’s relationship with Isaac. It was never my intention to take my son from his father, but in the long haul I knew this was the best option for Isaac and me. Javi undeniably loved Isaac and viewed him as a son. My mind was one hundred percent set.

  For such a significant decision, I knew Jo needed to be informed immediately. Our ability to maintain a civil adult relationship as Isaac’s parents would depend on how we handled this situation. Communication was the solution, per co-parenting counseling advice. I wasn’t just going through the motions to be polite, though. I genuinely care about Jo’s feelings when it comes to Isaac.

  Jo, like I predicted, took my marriage as a sham. He argued that I had rushed into a serious commitment that I was surely not ready for. Javi and I almost had a year together, which wasn’t acceptable to Jo, but to me the number held less significance than the depth of our feelings. I hadn’t been impulsive with such a huge decision. Javi and I weren’t a joke. Jo’s inability at the time to see the real reason why Javi and I chose to get married excused his poor judgment in sizing us up. I think Jo doubted my relationship with Javi because he wasn’t sure what he wanted and saw Javi as the ultimate barricade to ever having “us” as a possibility again.