I’m fairly confident these days. It’s something I’m cautiously proud of. I’ve worked hard to not only like who I am, inside and out, but to respond with a confident-yet-humble “thank you” to compliments. I don’t want to get too cocky for fear that my bravado will come off as fake and that I’ll lose sight of how far I’ve come from the old tapes that played in my head and they’ll start on repeat again! Nobody wants that!
So, I’ve come a long way, baby. But, there’s always room for more growth.
I realized a new way that I wasn’t giving myself enough credit a few days ago. One thing I’ve found myself saying often lately is, “I have someone who’ll have sex with me, so why not love my body?” It sounded fine in my ears until I had the thought…”What if I didn’t?”
What if I didn’t have someone who wanted to have sex with me? What if my husband was a jerk or I was single? Does a person need to be happily involved with an incredible partner in order to feel confident, sexy, or beautiful? Heck, no they don’t.
That’s what I decided. Heck. No.
So, the next morning I got up and stood naked in front of the mirror. I looked at all the places my husband had touched the night before and smiled in appreciation of his appreciation of me. I’m lucky that way.
Then I looked again. I looked at me. I saw stretch marks, acne, tattoos, fat, muscles. I saw me. I turned side to side. I saw things I liked, things I didn’t. And I loved me.
I mentally hugged me when I started to think down about something. I mentally high-fived me when I saw something that made me smile.
I stood there, face to face with a strong, smart, sensitive woman and loved her. Without anyone’s help. No one gave me permission. I looked in my own eyes and loved what I saw, unconditionally.
I’m not saying I’ll be able to do that every time I look in the mirror. And that’s okay. I don’t need to like everything to love me. And I do! I love me.
High-fives and hugs all around!
Go love yourself.