Oh, how quickly I have moved on from 2012.
See, last year is like the boyfriend I was trying to figure how to break up with. 2012 was that relationship that you don’t want to say, “It’s not you, it’s me,” because really, it wasn’t me. It was them. IT WAS THEM!
So, as I sit here… in a Starbucks, mind you, on a Saturday morning sipping a Salted Carmel Latte with no salt (like really…), I am post-breakup. I have fully immersed myself in 2013 and my relationship with it. I am so in love with 2013 and I’ve only been in this for a week and a half.
See, I love myself. I’ve been in this relationship with myself for 24 years… I’ve figured out how to have this relationship with myself, yet it’s been so dysfunctional, it drove me crazy. One minute, I would love myself for being who I am and loving myself… the next minute, I would hate myself for eating that extra piece of gluten-free pie or eating a whole pizza by myself.
Now, well, I need to learn to love myself again.
Every roll and fat chunk I have to love. I put it there. I can’t hate it. I did it to myself…. I ate some great food and did some great things. My former fat belly tells me that I like running now (as well as my shins) and used to be big but now, I am not. EVERY laugh line is a reminder of all the laughs and great times I have had. And well, damn it, I love my body.
Bodies are weird. They fart. They squish. They roll. And then they die.
My body is just that… squishy, rolly, farty, and me… and all of these freckles, lines, shapes, and marks… these scars, moles, and every hairs… they are all mine. They are mine. And I love them.
And you can love them, too.
But they are mine… just like you have yours. And it’s alright. It’s alright to love the imperfect…. because that’s just it. It isn’t perfect, which makes you human.
2012 can kiss my imperfect slightly large booty.
Because, I’ve found a new attitude and a new love for myself.
That is just that.