There is so much right and good and wow in my life right now.
I've finally hit some sort stride with parenting, where I'm actually getting things right occasionally! I have more patience, and even when my patience isn't there, I can act as if and still feel like I'm giving my children what they need. My relationship with my partner has never been stronger. (Our current struggle is that we really like hanging out, just the two of us, and we don't get to do that often enough.) My health is improving by the month.
There's always a but.
My body image sucks. It's awful. It sucks so hard.
Despite doing right by my body (and acting as if on the days I have the brilliant idea to maybe, just, like, not eat breakfast), I'm still mourning the re-gain of "the last ten pounds." And I keep asking myself why.
I believed for so long that those last ten pounds were the key to finally being attractive...to other people.
The thing is, other people find me attractive now. We can discuss later whether or not being attractive to others should be the destination. The fact is that I'm there already! I have arrived! My friends, my partner, the women in my ballet classes have all told me that I look great! Recently, one of the most gorgeous, intelligent women I know called me beautiful. My heart soared for thirty seconds. Beautiful. And then I was back in the old thought-rut.
No. Not good enough.
All the people who actually matter to me think I'm beautiful. (They also love me for dozens of other reasons, that I often remind myself are the reasons that actually matter.) So who is left to impress? Only the assholes who think women have to look one Certain Way to be attractive. Why do I want to be attractive to assholes?
Do I want to attract the assholes?
God, no. No. Please, no. Keep the assholes far, far away from me and my friends and my children.
But that raises the question: if I can't see what the people who love me see, am I one of the assholes?
I'm afraid I might be.