aha!

I was just in the shower, soaping up all of my glaringly white, jiggly bits, and thought, "now that is a great body." True story. I will let you know, that in my life until this moment, I have had this thought less than a handful of times. As you know, I am not a super model, (or even a hand model for that matter), and as most women do, judge myself rather harshly. Sure, I don't like wearing a bathing suit, and tight pants make my tummy squish out at the top (not attractive, just believe me on this), but there are things that I do like, and I forget to focus on those things. I have great ankles. My elbows are also very nice.
I have heard it said many times that you can't change someone. I believed it too, people are who they are. With my new found self appreciation though, I would like to tell you that that statement is indeed wrong. People are constantly changing, and if you are a major influence in their life, you will inevitably change them.
I used to be a girl (and now a woman) who had a decent amount of self respect and self esteem, but always in the back of my mind, a little itchy spot of self loathing, that would ooze out and infect my brain sometimes with negativity and self doubt. I believe this is normal, to a point. (I am still working on my *phd, so it's hard to say if I am actually right, or just agree with myself)
I sometimes wonder, if I am a happy girl, with a good life, why do I think I need to look differently to be truly happy? Alan tells me that he loves me exactly like I am. (he says this often, apparently I need convincing) Is it possible for him to really love me even though I don't look like societies ideal of the perfect woman? Could it be that maybe his idea of the perfect woman is me? With my freckles poking out, and my hair frizzing up, an entire wardrobe of clothes that have elastic waists instead of zippers and buttons? The answer is no. (or so I had convinced myself) But then I stepped back. Who am I to say what is beautiful?
Dandelions are my favorite flower. In high school I loved orchids, they were tropical and rare. When I was a young adult, I loved hydrangeas, they grew in the yard of my first house. Now that I have beautiful girls who pick me dandelion bouquets by the handful, they are my very favorite flower, hands down. I can't see a dandelion without smiling, they make my heart happy. Their bright vibrant color, the amazing way that they change from a tiny green bud, to a fuzzy yellow flower, to a white feathery seed puff, to me, are a perfect example of beauty. I would take a fistful of dandelions any day over an expensive bouquet of anything.
Then I got it. I am a dandelion! I am Alan's dandelion. Some people see weeds and break out the round-up, (Alan used to), but now we pick them, and blow the puffs all over the yard, and make wishes like crazy. And smile. Maybe my job isn't to the be prettiest, or the skinniest, or the best. Maybe my job is to help people smile. It is a very respectable job I think.
One thing I really enjoy about getting older is that somehow things seem to sort themselves out. Life gets a certain clarity all on it's own. You are certain what is important and what isn't. There isn't room for fronting or drama, there is only room for things that truly matter. It is such a relief to live each day for what it is, nothing more, just to enjoy the experience of it.
I realise that my body has literally supported me every single day that I have been alive. One of the reasons my belly pokes out is that I have made a family (ahem, and appreciate beer). I have earned these little body modifications through hard work, and also all of the amazing experiences that I have been through.
Today, I noticed that I have a smokin' set of ankles, and then I got dressed (in tie top pants) and joined some good friends for 7 layer chocolate birthday cake. I smiled the entire time.



*imaginary