You'd have to be the lowest of low...

I've never understood the need to sue someone for everything they are worth after a car-accident. Especially when the person you are suing has suffered as much as or worse than you.

But when you are the person who caused the accident and you are suing someone who lost way more than you could every dream of losing, that makes you an even worse individual.

The worst part is, this is going on in Ontario right now. In 2012, just outside a small town called Innisfil, a woman in an SUV struck three teens on bikes from behind, killing one and seriously injuring the other two. It was at night, but statements have shown the boys were wearing reflective gear and the driver has already admitted to speeding 10km/h over the speed limit. 

Let's not forget of course, that this woman is the wife of a police officer, who was following behind her on the road, and that she was not asked to take a breathalyzer.

Within a year after the accident, the brother of the teen who died accidentally overdosed on pills whilst drowning his sorrow over the loss of his brother. Within a year, those poor parents lost both their sons.

And now, the driver of the SUV is suing the DEAD TEENAGER for emotional trauma and trying to clean that family out of everything they have left. Because you know, the death of both their sons wasn't enough, now let's wring them dry and leave them with no money, no home and no lives.

I can't even begin to imagine what could possibly go through someone's head to make them think that they somehow deserve to destroy this family's lives even further. I can't imagine how someone could sit there and talk about how the emotional trauma they received is so much worse than the family who LOST BOTH THEIR SONS, that she needs to sue the dead son for it. 

Because really, if she's suffering that much trauma, money will erase the emotional distress right? I mean, the fact that she'll have ruined their lives will mean nothing because she'll be rolling in money. Money makes everything better right? 

It just makes me sick. Physically and emotionally sick. It makes it hard for me to keep words out of my mouth that I am trying to get out of the habit of using. I hold very little faith in the legal system for these kinds of things, but if this goes through, I'll have lost it all.

When do we learn to love ourselves as we are, instead of as who we think we should be?

It's no secret that the fashion world and beauty industry have spent years bringing in billions of dollars by making the majority of the world feel ugly and insecure about ourselves. Oh, I've been guilty of it for sure. Sitting down and reading Teen Vogue, or Tiger Beat when I was younger, and then onto mags like Cosmo, LouLou and Flare. I spent countless hours watching shows like Breaker High, One Tree Hill and The OC, wishing I could look like the beautiful people who graced the world's presence by sharing their perfection with us. 

In my early twenties, for the first time in my life, I managed to get in shape. I was fit, I had an amazing six pack, and I should have been thrilled with my body. Instead, I still saw my every imperfection. I'd look at those girls in the magazines and shows and realize even if I lost more weight, I could never look like them. The doctors told me that even though my rib cage and collar bone was starting to jut out, according to their charts I was still overweight.

I was still obsessed with every flaw that I felt made me look awful. My skin was nowhere near the perfect, pore-less smooth of these models I saw everywhere, and even with the great shape I was in I still had stretch-marks and a few bits of flab. 

The worst part? I knew exactly what was done to these models. We had an entire class on how to do this in photoshop, and on how the models and actresses really looked compared to how we were made to see them. And yet still, they had me convinced. 

Eight years later, I'm still struggling. I find it hard to accept my imperfections. That scar on my forehead where my mole once was, the fact that I have trouble with my weight because of my PCOS, and that I have three times as much hair on my arms as the average female. Even though my husband tells me every day that he believes I'm sexy and beautiful, I look at myself in the mirror and I struggle to see it sometimes. 

And the media? Still doing what they do best. Except for a few companies who have realized that something needed to be done. Some accuse them of simply using it as a marketing campaign, and maybe it is. But, at least for a while they're getting it right. 

Dove has gone to extreme lengths to start focusing on the average woman -- to show her beauty in all shapes, sizes and body types through their Dove Campaign For Real Beauty. Aerie has joined with their new #aeriereal promise, a promise that they will not retouch a single portion of any of their models. Now, when you walk in their stores, instead of finding yourself staring at picture-perfect size 00, flawless creations, you're greeted with girls who are perfect in every imperfection. 

The thing is, every little bit helps. When the outside world takes a step to help women realize their true beauty, the impact can be incredible. I still look in the mirror some days and wonder how anyone could see beauty in me. But then, I see the real women in these ads. The ones who are untouched, who have scars and acne, skin discolourations and sometimes, awkward rolls. I see them, and I feel better about myself. Not because I feel that I am superior in any way, but because I am just like them. 

I am perfect as I am. Anything I choose to do to better that is just a bonus. But if I choose not to, I am still beautiful where I am. Every roll, every flaw, and every imperfection. It's time to start loving the skin I'm in, because if I can't love who I am, there will always be something missing in my life.

Time to get healthy, for good.

**Disclaimer -- The disclosure of some of my health issues in this post are not complaints -- as much as they suck, I've learned to live with them. Rather, I am explaining what is going on to help my readers understand the challenges that I am facing.

Like most people, I've had my ups and downs with getting healthy. I've had months, and even a couple of years where I was at the top of my game and I've had even more times when I haven't. And like a vast many of people it seems these days, I have had an onslaught of health problems. In fact, since I was fifteen, I can't remember a time I was without one problem or another. Younger even, if you count my struggles with anorexia and bulimia.

It started with an unexplained, un-diagnose-able arthritis in my wrists. Then came the chronic migraines. Migraines so bad that I missed a good chunk of the 11th grade. And from there, it was just one thing after another. When one health problem disappeared, another one quickly took it's place.

A few years back, I was diagnosed with Poly-Cystic Ovarian Syndrome(PCOS). Despite leading a fairly active lifestyle and eating, for the most part, quite healthy, I kept gaining and gaining weight no matter what I did. I was put on medication to help, with the intent to pull me off once my weight was under control. One of the things that PCOS is caused by is a lack of insulin in your body, and the medication is supposed to help teach your body to regularly produce the insulin on it's own. For many, that works. But, as it seems to be with everything else, I fell into the category of people whose bodies cannot produce insulin on their own no matter how much the medication teaches it to. Which means, as soon as I stop the medication or lower my dosage past a certain point, I gain like there is no tomorrow. (This happened to me last year -- I gained nearly 40lbs over a span of two and a half months, while working out at the gym 3-5 times a week and barely eating enough to keep me healthy).

I've had stomach issues that developed while I was in college, and in the last six months have gotten so bad that I can't eat anything without getting ill. That's nearly ten years of getting sick from foods with no apparent pattern or reasoning. While I've been able to figure out that I have a sensitivity to dairy and gluten, it still does not help that much.

This 'sickness' has gotten to the point where now, I live off taking an Imodium every other day just to be able to do my work and leave the house. If I'm going to eat, I try to choose foods I know make me throw up just so that I can inhibit what will happen if the food isn't already after my system. I've been in a permanent state of exhaustion for months now, and I'm tired of it (no pun intended).

While I am seeking medical help, I don't have much faith that they will be able to determine anything. Despite that however, I am hopeful that I can be healthy again. I've started that journey, and as difficult as it is, I plan on sticking to it.

And for now, that means cutting out as much gluten and dairy as possible (I can't give them both up entirely, they're my two favourite food groups after steak, bacon and chicken!), and trying to eat overall healthier meals and portions. Due to work, sometimes I don't have the chance to stop somewhere and eat something healthy, or go home for lunch, so fast food is the only option. So I'm forcing myself to learn to cut back on portions there too -- the smaller, the better.

As for workouts, well, I'm trying. Anyone who has ever been lacking proper nutrition and finding themselves drained because of it knows how hard it can be to get the strength to do something physical, but I am doing what I can. Since I can't afford the gym, I'm using workout videos and, once the weather improves, intend to take my dog for at least a half hour rigorous walk twice a day.

I know they say it's good to set weight-loss goals in a time frame, but I'm choosing not to do that. Each time I have, with the things I've been facing, I tend to panic and get stressed out if I fall off track and it makes it a lot harder to avoid turning back to bulimia to get to where I want. So, there is no time goal. Just a goal to continuously push forward, towards being a healthier, happier, better me.

And if I manage to find a way to get a six pack and awesome legs on the way, I don't think you'll hear me arguing too much.