my individual me.


Tonight, I was on the phone with my pal Kate and we were talking about the jerks (a term I use loosely) in our lives and I said something about how we can’t control the way we feel about things. What makes us laugh, cry, want to rip our hair out. We can’t control deeper emotions: who we love, who we don’t love, who makes the list of being a friend versus a lover and I am sure there is much more beyond that.

So, this morning I found myself standing in the mirror in my underwear after stepping off the scale (another 3 pound loss, by the way) and scrutinizing my entire body.

“These sure aren’t perky anymore.”

“My legs are too stumpy.”

“My arm flab is less, but it is still there.”

The list went on. I always find myself comparing my physical appearance against those around me and it kinda’ kills me. We are called indiviuals for a reasons and if I always find myself not allowing myself to be my individual self, I will never be happy. The emotions I feel when I stand in front of the mirror? Not entirely controlled. Hard as I try, I can’t get out of my own emotional head, unfortunately.

And to that I say:

YIKES.

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2 thoughts on “my individual me.

  1. Dear Cindy,
    1.) They are fabulous.
    2.) Stumpy? I’d go for beautifully curved and vivaciously-strong.
    3.) Someday I’ll wave for you, so you can run shrieking away wondering why I showed you what happens at just before 30 with one kid. I still think they’re awesome.
    ๐Ÿ™‚

    • For your beautifully written blog post, Cindy, and the wonderful reply, Kate, I just have to say.

      You are both incredibly gorgeous no matter the little flaws you see in your body, arms, tush, legs, whatever. Love you both! ๐Ÿ™‚

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