Before I write about my new love, I have to say that I just got a case for my iPad that has a keyboard, so I can post more easily. Because I just can’t type quickly with the stupid little iPad keyboard. I’m just writing randomly here because this keyboard is so nice. Wow. I’m typing really fast. If you could see
me typing this, you’d say, That girl is fast. And not in the way Margaret Mitchell used the word in Gone with the Wind (anybody?).
Enough about the keyboard. Now I’d like to talk about something far more important. I’ve started feeling better about myself, and it started with my knees. Crazy, but bear with me. I was looking at my knees last week and thinking how chubby they were. And suddenly I thought, those knees are cute. They’re cute because they’ve had a really hard year, and they’ve gotten me through it all, and nobody’s been taking care of them. Poor knees: nobody has been exercising them, or feeding them nutritionally sound meals, or letting them have fun, or having compassion for them.
I started loving my chubby knees. I remembered how muscular they were last year when I ran the Warrior Dash, and I felt sad for them because they haven’t been doing the things they love, and I wanted to take care of them.
Of course, taking care of my knees means taking care of myself, and by having compassion rather than shame for myself (and my knees), it suddenly became easy to be kind to myself — and being kind means taking care of myself, which includes eating healthier meals, getting back to the exercise class which I really love, spending time outdoors, writing, etc. When I stopped berating myself, I began to be able to care for myself.
Because, guess what? No matter how much my family and friends love me and take care of me (and they do and they have), it always comes down to the fact that the only person who can really, really care for me is me (okay, and a higher power, on the days when I believe in such things).
This is very twelve-step-ish and has nothing to do with style or fashion, except that it does. I could not care about looking my best when I was feeling crappy. By feeling better about myself, I can start caring about having fun with clothes and makeup and jewelry. And if I put on shorts that show off my chubby knees, or a sleeveless dress that sort of highlights my arms (which have lost all that lovely definition I had last year), well, so what? It’s nobody’s business that I have chubby knees. (I should really stop writing the words “chubby knees,” but I can’t seem to stop… because I really love my chubby knees.)
Why would I want to look like a fashion model, anyway? I mean, in the last issue of Glamour, the editors suggested that you give your strapless little black dress (so cutely acronymed in fashion circles as LBD) a sporty twist by layering it over a pair of track pants. Track pants! REALLY?
Anyway, do you love your chubby knees or arms or belly or ass or thighs, or all of the above? Do you have compassion for yourself when you need it? IF NOT, GIVE IT A TRY. IT’S VERY COMFORTING. I’M NOT TRYING TO SHOUT THIS AT YOU. IT’S JUST THAT I SOMEHOW TURNED ON THE CAPS LOCK ON THE NEW KEYBOARD, AND I CAN’T FIGURE OUT HOW TO TURN IT OFF. HELP.
Hey, I figured it out all by myself.
As always, let me know your thoughts