Can I be real with you guys? I mean super f’ing real?
If I were to die today, I would be soooo disappointed and not for the obvie reason that being not alive is 🙁 but because I haven’t done what I wanted to do here and you know what that is? Love myself. I mean TOTALLY LOVE MYSELF.
My whole flawed self.
My entire jigglier, saggier, age-spottier, grayer, cellulitier self.
As much as I like myself more and more and truly love certain things about myself, I am not in love with myself. And here let me make it clear that I’m talking about how I look.
I’m pretty hard on myself.
Sometimes I’m out-and-out cruel.
I’m getting older. That is both glorious (see above about the not being alive option), and also very challenging because my body is changing. It’s getting older. Duh, right? But this is serious. It’s not getting older like 30s to 40s or 40s to 50s. It’s OLDER like 3rd act of life older and becoming invisible in the world according to our culture older.
But gang? I don’t care for this.
I also don’t even agree with myself on this.
I love woman, all ages, all sizes, all styles. I really do. I love the ladies who dress in outrageous fashion, bright colors, as much as ladies who pull on the sweats and go out without washing their face.
(Personally, I am a big fan of going out in my pajamas.)
I love unconventional looks.
I love strong features and women who have daring souls and huge senses of humor and compassion, who believe in kindness and laugh at farts and relish potato chips, women who break their own rules, who try and fail and want to know how you really feel.
So why is it that when I look down at my arm and catch sight of a patch of particularly saggy crapey cellulitey OLD looking skin I feel a flash of DISGUST.
DISGUST I TELL YOU.
What I want to do here on this earth, to accomplish before I die, is the big embrace of me right now.
I want to see it ALL and love it all, as in open to it, invite it in, let it be there (which is funny because it IS THERE) not WHEN I lose 15 pounds or get ‘back in shape’ or find the perfect face cream or hide my neck and upper arms with a whole new Diane Keaton-inspired wardrobe (don’t get me wrong—I LOVE Diane Keaton, her beauty and her style!) but right fucking now.
You know what? (Perhaps this has happened to you) when I see pictures of myself from 5, 10, 20 years ago, I feel delight. Look how adorable I was! And I didn’t know it! I didn’t really know it at the time and one day, I will look at pictures of myself now (hopefully—see above about not being alive one day) and see the beauty of me at this age.
I don’t want to miss out! Right now! While I’m hanging out with the me of right now.
Recently, I saw a picture of Lena Dunham that I can’t get out of my mind. She is heavier than she’s ever been and she is happier than she’s ever been because she has decided to love the bod she’s in, love it, just like that, and then get on with the other stuff in life that she cares about—writing, making things, wearing stuff that lights her up, having adventures, being with the people that tickle her soul.
I want that.
So today, after my shower, I sat naked in front of the full-length mirror and looked at all of me. I said all the things that came in my mind and ended each (mean) sentence with, “And I love that.” I kept going, looking, speaking, loving it.
(This brilliant exercise from Kyle Cease really works. It loosens things. It creates cracks in the shell of judgment where humor and a new perspective slips in.)
I had a whole other newsletter written and ready to send off to y’all but, I feel compelled to share this today.
I hope, Dear Reader, that there is something useful here for you.
For beautiful, imperfect, sagging, graying, widening, thinning, changing, aging you.
You are magnificent exactly as you are this second, every bit of you. A gift. A miracle. Even with the parts you wish were different, more, less, taller, shorter, perkier, smoother, hipper, cooler, fresher, thinner, tighter, rounder.
You, this second = worthy & wondrous.