I thought I would update you guys on my whole self acceptance project. I swear, cross my heart, hope to die, I am cured, simply by saying my fear out loud to you all and then moving through it with your encouragement. That’s it. I’m done hiding.
Don’t think for a minute that I don’t care what I look like. Some people don’t, and I don’t judge them at all. I even kinda idolize them for it. But me? I want to love what I look like, but no matter what I look like. I want to feel sexy. Womanly. Strong. I want my gaze to be unyielding and my mouth open and honest. Shoulders unapologetic, my hips stable, my core solid. A foundation sound enough upon which to build an empire of love but soft enough around the corners for grace. We all need grace, otherwise our movements are rigid and forced.
I am pieced together by grace and love. My mother gives me faith, my father gives me tenacity (relentless old fart… xoxo). My eldest sister wisdom, my other sister vivacity. Jason drives me crazy, Andrew pulls me in and cradles my everything. My children, all of them, offer me humility, compassion and humour. For if I can’t laugh at my mistakes, then this isn’t survivable, and I’m ever thankful for their grace.
This I carry within the skin I’m in. I’d stand naked in my bathroom mirror forever, if this is all I saw staring back at me. I love her. I love me, all the pieces.