Loving Me (Flabby Arms & All)

I've made a conscious effort lately to stop putting my hand on my hip when I am getting my picture taken. Screw it, I'm ready for my upper arm flab to show because an unflattering picture of my upper arm is far less dangerous than showing my daughters that I use an ounce of my energy to try to look a certain way.

Last night, we were entertaining and had a group of our good friends over. My 7-year-old daughter was doing a dance routine for them. And, the routine was robotic and careful and timid. It was almost unrecognizable to me because I'm used to watching her dance on her own when she thinks nobody is watching. And, I got pissed. Not at her, but at society and at myself for doing stupid shit like putting my hand on my hip for pictures.

I wanted to scream...STOP IT! STOP THINKING AND DANCE! DO WHAT FEELS GOOD! DO WHAT MAKES YOU FEEL ALIVE! WHO CARES WHAT ANYONE ELSE THINKS? YOU ARE LOVED - SO LOVED - NO MATTER WHAT. AND YOU ARE GOOD. GOOD ENOUGH. BETTER THAN GOOD ENOUGH. THE BEST.

So, there you have it, I'm done trying to look a certain way, any way that is different than the way that I actually am. I am not less than or not good enough because I have upper arm flab. There you have it, done, done, done. One of these days, I will be able to recognize this unhealthy behavior for my own well being. I feel like I'm on my way. In the meantime, I will use these beautiful girls of mine to show me the way.