Funny the things we do to ourselves. Well, perhaps funny isn’t the right word. More like it’s fucked up the things we do to ourselves.
Take for instance my best friend who is so kind, caring, and above all honest. I mean she just cuts through the bullshit like no other and that is why I love her. She’s also a beautiful woman who has been through thick and thin with me— both figuratively and literally.
I received this text from her on New Years Eve:
“Just weighed myself. Fuck. After a beer and a brat.. gained 10 (pounds) since quitting smoking”
There’s two ways to look at this text: she’s had too many beers and brats of late, or she did something incredibly challenging (not to mention life saving) and her body is adjusting to life post cigarettes. I’m damn proud of her for quitting that nasty habit and I could give a fuck if she’s gained 10, 15, 20 pounds. But she does.
There is no doubt that it’s easier to find the negative, especially when it comes to your appearance. Most people (perhaps more women than men) think that they are never skinny enough, never pretty enough, they are too short, or have fat fingers and toes, etc. You get the point: it’s easy to self-bash.
Two weeks ago I committed the same sin at dinner with a group of of my husband’s coworkers. I was sharing a funny little story about the time I caught the eye of a well known rock star. For whatever reason the lead singer of this group took a liking to me backstage at one of his concerts near Seattle. When the night ended, the band’s road manager asked me for my contact information. I gave it to him and three weeks later I received a care package from the band. Included in the package was a few personal items from the lead singer.
I ended my fun little dinner party story by saying, “that was 20 years and 20 pounds ago”.
Why did I feel the need to add that statement? Am I retarded? Undoubtedly. Looking back now two weeks later, I think I just wanted to clarify to this group of strangers that at one time I was pretty “hot”.
Yes, I’m profoundly disappointed in myself. Mainly for this reason: It was I, not my husband’s coworkers, who couldn’t imagine that the now 40 year old woman telling this story was “hot” enough to attract the attention of the Rock Legend.
Have a gained weight? Yes. Do I have more wrinkles? Yes. Am I the same girl I use to be? Not really. And that should be okay.
So as I begin this new year, my goal for 2012 is to be at peace with me.
The 40 year old, heavier, and more wrinkled me.