The Art of Accepting a Compliment

Why is it so hard for us to accept a compliment? Maybe you don't have that issue. But I do. Someone compliments something I've made and I can always point out a flaw. "Oh, thank you, but it didn't turn out like I'd hoped." Someone comes into my home and says, "It looks amazing" and my response usually involves picking at some little thing that didn't get done. Nevermind trying to compliment me personally. 

I am told often throughout my day that I'm beautiful or amazing or incredible or any other wonderful adjective that can be used to describe another human. And I shrug it off because people see a mere illusion when they see me, right? But there is one voice that has broken through the cacophony and brought me to my knees.

I have someone in my life who insists on a photo of me every single day. And with every pic I send, he will tell me that I'm pretty or beautiful. He's half a world away at the moment, but he always takes time from his day to make me feel so special. He gets me to brag on myself, my work ethic, or any other thing that makes me feel like I'm enough. 

When we started this, he would compliment me and I'd always find something negative to say. I would point out each and every flaw possible. When I started getting remarks from him saying things like "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, right?" or "Do you not believe me?," I really began to think about the heart of the man paying me these compliments. 

What's he getting from telling me how beautiful I am? Nothing, other than the satisfaction of making me feel good about myself. What gain does he receive from telling me how perfect or amazing I am in his eyes? Again, nothing. He simply wants me to know how he feels and how he sees me. 

He knows I'm difficult. He gets that my self-esteem is high some days and extremely low other days. But can I tell you something that I don't think even he understands? 

I look forward to sending him these pictures every day. Whether he gets one with a full-face of make-up or one where I am still in bed with my face full of wrinkles from my pillowcase and bed head, I find beauty within as I snap each pic. 

I used to make him ask each day. Because, in my opinion, who could possibly need to see ME every single day? Turns out that this man does. And I don't make him ask anymore. Even on days when I feel like shit, I still send him a pic. 

I've discovered that he does that to make sure that I'm okay. Some days, I receive the message that says "You look stressed." You can hide a lot behind a computer screen. You cannot hide much in a photo...especially when you are the end of your rope and ready to fall apart. 

Don't get me wrong...we still tease and pick at each other because that's who we are. As much as I have grown accustomed to reading his appreciation of my beauty, inside and out, it is the "You make my heart smile" or "You make me laugh" that fills my heart to the capacity that it overflows all over the place. 

I grew up in a family where my grandma and mom were seldom in pictures. If they were, they would put their hands over their faces and try to hide. You know the pictures I crave seeing these days? Yep, it is pictures of Grandma and Mom simply because it brings them closer to me.

Some day, I hope the man who is a half a world away reads this and knows that no matter what happens between us... he understands how far he's brought me in learning to simply say "Thank you" when he gives me compliment.

 

Tomorrow is the Day

 Tomorrow is a very big day for me and I am so very excited!

To others, it will be an ordinary Saturday. But for me? For me, tomorrow is a sort of awakening. 

Years ago, Roseanne did an episode where she did a boudoir photo shoot for her wedding anniversary. When I watched that episode, my only thought was that it seemed to be a very freeing experience. Problem was, back then, a lot of the boudoir photographers were a bit on the seedier side.

Fast forward to 2020 when I discovered a boudoir photographer who has this extraordinary talent that allows a woman's true beauty to shine through. I signed up for a session and have managed to talk myself in and out of actually doing the session at least 30 times in the last few months. But tomorrow? Tomorrow is the day!

I have spent the last month preparing my wardrobe, making sure my hair was trimmed to the perfect style, choosing the look to achieve, and watching my self-confidence escalate.

The last week, I have done facials, gotten my nails done, scrubbed and moisturized myself until my skin is as smooth as possible.

Nails by Pa

And tomorrow is the day. The day when I let go of my ideas of what beauty looks like. The day when I make myself vulnerable. The day that I refuse to look at my flaws. The day that I see what the people who love me best have been seeing all along. The day when I open myself up to the process. The day where I believe that I'm sexy and beautiful.

Tomorrow is the day. Whether it is an extraordinary day or just a normal Saturday, embrace it and the journey! We only get one life! Live it to the fullest!!

Let's Talk about Being Enough

Webster's Dictionary defines "enough" as: "occurring in such quantity, quality or scope as to fully meet demands, needs, or expectations."

So, riddle me this: Why does a woman have a demand, need, or expectation placed on her to satisfy society? I cannot for the life of me figure this out!

For many years (and I do mean many), I wasn't enough. I wasn't skinny enough, pretty enough, smart enough, ambitious enough, demure enough...you name it and I wasn't enough. I tried. I really did, but nothing I did could meet the expectations of friends, family, or society. Because of that, I have walked through my life, bearing the cross that I'll never be enough.

I wore glasses when other girls didn't. I bit my nails. I dressed like a tomboy. I played dumb so boys would like me. I couldn't decide what I wanted to be when I grew up. I preferred getting lost in a book to being outside. I didn't mind being alone. I didn't date much. I like eating a lot more than I like exercising.

A few years ago, I met a man who promised me that I was enough. He walked with me on this journey and helped me smash the records in my head that spewed the vile things I'd been telling myself my entire life. He declared me "perfect"...until my anxiety and depression got the better of me. Then, I became "too much" and "not worth the effort." He stepped back and walked out of my life without looking back. In the blink of an eye, I went from being "not enough" to "too much."

Where is the line? Do you know?

It has taken a lot of time to heal myself (and it is still a work in progress) from my past. One thing that I've discovered over the years is this: I will always be "not enough" for some people, too much for others, but for the people who love me...I will always be enough.

I owe nothing to anyone. If you don't find me beautiful, I'm good with that. You don't think I'm thin enough, fine. You think I'm high maintenance, good thing you don't foot the bill to maintain me. I'm too vocal/blunt/over the top/emotional when it comes to my feelings and opinions? Then, don't listen to me. I will not force anyone to be my friend. You haven't walked my journey, just as I haven't walked yours. I will sit with you and not judge you, but I expect the same courtesy.

Do not force yourself into a box to satisfy societal needs. Do not shrink yourself down or hide your true self away because people can't handle you. Be you! That is the advice I wish I would have gotten years ago. The world needs YOU! It's YOU that makes this world such a unique and wonderful place!

I will tell you this: You ARE enough! You ARE beautiful enough! You ARE smart enough! You ARE  special enough! You ARE enough! And you ARE loved!!

Stumbling Through the Years

A subject that is very close to my heart these days is aging or to put it bluntly, getting old. The phrase "growing old gracefully" would never be used to define my process. I am finding myself stumbling through the years.

For so long, I've dreaded growing older. It didn't matter that it was going to happen unless my ashes had been scattered to the winds. It mattered that I didn't want to ever be old. So, I have fought it all the way. I color my hair to hide the grays. I take vitamins and supplements to help hide the sagging skin and aching bones. I don't dress my age (though I'm not exactly sure how a woman my age dresses). On a good day, I can pass for less than 40 and that makes me happy.

However, something I have discovered is that while I care how I look, being a woman of a certain age affords me things that I haven't considered. I am more willing to let go of certain inhibitions. I don't care if people stare if I am on the arm of a man considerably younger than myself. I dress how I feel comfortable and if someone is uncomfortable with that, then that someone can bite me. I tend to speak my mind a bit more. I'm not afraid to flex my brain and show my intelligence. I'm also a bit more willing to admit that I'm wrong. Aging has afforded me all of this. 

When I speak, I speak from experience and mistakes . When I give advice, I don't sugarcoat the words. I'm blunt and to the point. I don't promise that my advice is the best, but I do guarantee that whatever it is, you'll get through it. 

I've learned to take care of me, for me. It may mean a day of grocery shopping, cooking, and doing my hair. It may also mean lying in bed, watching shows to soothe my soul, and letting go of whatever is on my mind. I'm not afraid to take some time for me. Some days, I still want to build a blanket fort, crawl inside with some chocolate milk, Cheetos, and a good book, and kill a day, but I keep struggling through the pain.

I have also learned to not be so restrictive on myself. I don't deny myself the things that make me happy. People, especially women, used to approach me and make rude comments about my clothing choices. Women, I didn't know, thought their opinion needed to be heard. Quite frankly, I don't let them get to me anymore. It still happens, but I don't let it bother me. If you feel the need to comment on my weight, my hair color, my marital status, or my clothing, trust me, it says more about you than it does about me.

And I'm learning to like myself. There are still days when I look in the mirror to get ready for work and groan. But there are more days when I can look at my reflection and like what I see. I know the woman in the mirror is trying her best. I know her heart and her soul are good. I know that the twinkle in her eye shows her mischievous side. I know that underneath the plethora of colors on her head lies a brain filled with knowledge and aching to know more. I know the hands applying the make-up have worked hard and played just as hard. I also know the body may be soft and squishy, but it has been held by the very best this world can offer.

I will never be one who ages with grace. I will continue to stumble through the years, but I will do it with style and confidence. And if I'm lucky, maybe most people will mistake the stumble for a dance.

Many, Many Moons Ago...

The other day, one of my Facebook groups asked us to post our senior picture along with a current one. And I love participating in weird things, so I began the hunt for my senior photos. It took me into a tote that has been sitting in isolation since I moved here almost 6 years ago. I don't have much need to walk down memory lane, so I let it sit and gather dust.

I didn't have to dig too hard to find the portfolio of photos from my senior year. I opened them up and laughed to myself. That girl is those photos isn't me. That girl had blondish hair and no life experience. She wasn't dressed in any way I'd consider dressing these days. The funniest thing of all? I remember my mother reminding me to "not wear so much make-up" that day. The girl in those photos wasn't wearing as much as I do now. 

Was she beautiful? I think so. She had a cocky confidence that comes with youth. She was sure she was going to take the world by storm. She had plans and dreams. Not big ones, but ones that she vowed would take her out of the "one horse town" she grew up in. 

However, as I looked at my current picture, I saw something I've been missing. Just as that 18 year old was beautiful in her naivete, I'm just as beautiful now with some trials and tribulations under my belt. I've made a few dreams come true and up until the other day, I'd basically given up on dreaming any more. After all, at my age, what can I actually accomplish? Then, it hit me. I'm allowed to dream just as big and loud as that 18 year old did. I'm allowed to set goals and make things happen. I still want to change the world. Maybe not in such a major way as the 18 year old thought she'd do, but change it in smaller ways. 

I found my strength and power somewhere along the way. I've left the one horse town I grew up in and been a lot further from that spot than the 18 year old could have imagined. I've lived in places that I would never go back to and I found my heart in the one place I vowed I'd never go. (My dad promised me I would live in the place I'm at now (though I said, "You're crazy, old man!"). I just wish he'd have known that I'd find the reason my heart beats here.) Home isn't the place I came from so long ago, but a place that is about 2 hours north of where I am now.  I've got a lot more confidence than that 18 year old had. And a helluva lot more determination. 

Beauty doesn't come from the outside like that 18 year old believed. Beauty comes from growth, strength, and confidence of living your life on YOUR terms. Beauty lives inside of you until you crack and break under the stress of life. Then, beauty oozes out through those cracks and shows the world just what true beauty is.

So, how did you find your beauty? (Don't be shy! I know it's there, whether you see it or not.) Talk to me! Tell me your story!