I look in the mirror and I see the imperfections first. And then I make a conscious effort to dissuade the naysayers and find the good, because there is a lot of good to be found.
My body is relatively firm and I haven't gained any weight in the past five years, which is an accomplishment, because statistically a woman gains weight each year in their late forties. (There's that slippery sloped bitch again.)
My skin on my face and body is clear. Yes there are wrinkles and sags, but at 49 years old and my youth spent on the beach without sunscreen, they are marginal. Some of the wrinkles on my face are the grief that is forever imprinted, and the deep grooves between my eyebrows its roadmap.
Vanity has kept me from admitting my age, trying to gloss over what the mirror doesn't hide, and I'm done with all of it. I'm tired of being my own worst enemy, of believing what I've been told, as though it's confirmation of all that I see.
Being so uptight about what I see in the mirror is a disservice to my sister who would give anything to be living this life right now, in a body that is healthy and serves her and I'm not going to knock that gift ever again.
Today, I like what I see in the mirror, cracks and all.
I'm participating again this month over here
No comments:
Post a Comment