Fingers dance across a computer keyboard:
"This won't end up in a book
But I'm off the hook
Cause unless I'm mistook
The calendar does say
The 18th is National Bad Poetry Day."
|A day dedicated to masterpieces like this one!|
My fingers, a day before many others will scribble a similarly bad poetic masterpiece. As a writing major, I can understand the merit of such a holiday. It celebrates poets of all skill levels and promotes the simple act of writing versus composing written genius.
As a teenage girl, a college student, and a celiac, though, I appreciate it even more as a reminder that there is a time and a place for the "bad."
It's okay to have days of bad body image. Though everyone faces messages from media about physical perfection, teenage girls seem to be the prime target. Of magazines like Cosmo, Elle, and Teen Vogue. Of TV shows that cast older, elegant actresses in high school roles. And of the criticism we throw at our own mirrors.
Many of my friends often can't believe I have days I struggle with my body. To them, I'm skinny so I must never worry about my weight. To me, I get bloated, I get too thin from stress or illnesses, and I can nitpick my features with the same veracity as anyone else.
I want to love my body unconditionally. And a majority of days, I do. But bad days happen.
It's okay if, as I prepare for a crazy semester packed with jobs, an internship, and a heavy course load, I don't maintain the "perfect" GPA. If I hand in an essay that I would want a couple more days to edit. If I'm not the star student. If, heaven forbid, I do badly on an assignment or in a class.
I never want to take college - heck, receiving any level of education as a female - for granted. But gratefulness doesn't only appear through straight A's. It can peak out from that C+ project borne out of long nights at the library, the accidentally-nameless essay written on too little sleep, or a donut run with friends during a stressful week.
And it's okay if I break down once in a while because I want a freaking piece of regular bread with my burger or a normal "happy" tummy. The goal of my blog is to be positive and show that a celiac disease diagnosis isn't the end of the world. But some days, it sure does feel like that.
Especially when I compare myself to teenagers that constantly eat junk, don't exercise or take vitamins, and yet have a body that works correctly 100% of the time. Or people that don't have to worry about food - the ingredients, the prep time needed to cook it or possible cross contamination at restaurants - every time they want to eat.
I'm happy to say that I have mainly good days, but the bad ones don't make you a bad teenager, student or celiac. Instead, like my silly poem for National Bad Poetry Day, that day is merely a rough draft for what could emerge later. A release of all the emotional rhymes that are raw, unplanned and unedited.
So, while I don't celebrate the bad days, I don't tear out those pages from my life's journal either. Because, like a bad poem, bad days are there for you to learn from and laugh over in the future.
Have you ever participated in National Bad Poetry Day? How do you approach "bad" days or efforts? Comment below!