…would be a really easy blog post to write today.
In case you missed it, I took an afternoon with one of my favorite photographers, Ashley Victoria, and did a lovely spread all over Pensacola Beach. I was nervous about the photos, mostly because from the few that I saw, the only thing I zeroed in on were my fat arms.
Then they came in and I had the rest of me to focus on and I nearly cried. This was not how I thought I looked. This was not how I pictured myself. This is not what I’m supposed to look like.
Then I get people saying that I’m gorgeous, these photos are “me,” that they’re “magical.” And I’m like, “Wait a second, you guys aren’t seeing my pudge and my fat arms and my giant nose and my old woman hands?”
I did a lot of work on the inside of me last year during the quarter life crisis, moving from a point where I absolutely HATED myself to a point where I learned to love all of the weird parts of my personality. And now I realize that while I did a good job of learning to love the inside of me, I now need to learn to love and accept the outside of me exactly as I am in this moment.
This is the body that I’ve had when I was marathon running and when I was lazy as shit. So if this is my body, then there’s no use in trying to pretend it’s something that it’s not. I have to be able to see the beauty in myself–exactly as I am–or else I will never be happy. And above all things, happy is what I aspire to be.