Not Another Reflection Blog!

I know, I know. “Dammit, Ashly! Why can’t you just get back to writing funny shit about rock stars and coffee?” But put up with this sort of stuff just until the end of the week and I PROMISE you that in the near future myself and bulletproofheeb will be working on something that’s going to make Fangs vrs. Fur look simplistic.

But for now, let’s talk about how I wasted my fucking life.

Okay, okay, not quite. But let’s talk about being somebody.

Since I was a kid I was always told that I had the tools to succeed. I was “intelligent,” had “personality” and, supposedly, “good looking.” So I grew up through middle and high school trying to figure out why I wasn’t famous yet.

I always blamed the fact that I was stuck in a small town until the age of 18, that my parents hadn’t actually tried to make me a child star when they had chances, that I just wasn’t in the right place. I blamed my weight and my looks, and like a lot of girls developed a sense of extreme hatred towards my body. If I was so wonderful, I reasoned, why weren’t people calling me and asking me to be famous?

Being the occasionally logical sort, I decided that the truth was I WASN’T any of those things people told me I was. I was…well, I wasn’t, really. I wasn’t anything special.

Then sometime around my 17th birthday, I blossomed. Full out. Found myself, my niche, my sweet caramel center if you will. I wasn’t ashamed of being myself anymore, I found things about myself that I liked, hell I LIKED MY BODY for the most part. I was confident, ass kicking and kinda hot.