When I was a younger woman, I wanted so desperately to be smaller. I wanted tiny cute feet that fit in normal shoes, ladylike hands, manicured nails and a poised demeanor. Fact: that’s not me- and each time I’ve tried on the that shoe, it has pinched so badly it figuratively flew of my foot and shattered a window across the room. Not doing it anymore. I’m going to sing a song of praise, I’m going to stop buying into anyone else’s notion of what it means to be a woman, and embrace myself.
I’m overweight. Always have been. The fact is, being overweight is what helped me deliver three healthy babies while losing 20 pounds each time because of hyper-emesis. If I had been skinny, who knows what would have happened to my babies.
My feet are big. Like, size 12 big. Yeah, not kidding. My hands are big. My toes are freakishly long. The fact is, these big hands make beautiful things, calm babies, cool fevered brows and paint anything my mind imagines. My enormous feet look right on my body, and they move me through the world. My toes look just lovely with shiny red polish. My German roots are showing, and I love them.
My hair is insane. I feel so unkempt most of the time, because of the nest of curls. When I want to feel sleek and put together, I iron the crap out of it. But it always reverts back. It gets complimented and noticed more than anything about my appearance, and I’ve never seen anyone with hair just like mine. While the craziness bugs me, I also know it can be startlingly pretty; it’s one of my vanities.
So there it is. The things I’m most self-conscious about. The things that used to make me feel like a bull in a china shop, but now are just part of who I am. One of the best things about getting a little older, getting a few more years under your belt, is a certainty of who you are. A calmness and confidence in what you do- and how you do it.
Contentment is the realization of how much you already have.