What I love is that even when I felt unhappy with my appearance I was still able to love other people unconditionally. What I’ve come to love is my past – the hard times still had a lot of joy. One thing I’m still working on is loving my life where I am right now.
Does weight really matter to those around you?
I busted out my first aid kit tonight. I really needed it. I didn’t work out today and I slacked off all day. The perfectionist comes out in all sorts of ways. If it’s not tracking points, then it’s not doing enough exercise. etc.
However, I looked at this picture and knew that it just didn’t matter.
My Grandpa doesn’t think that I am too fat, too this, too that. What he sees is a girl who grew up on a farm, demanding to drive tractor at 12 years old, who went to uni and has travelled the world. He sees his granddaughter finally doing what he told her to do eight years ago: becoming a nurse. What he sees and what is is proud of is what is at my core.
I laid on my floor tonight. My tummy bloated from, lord knows what, and I was feeling guilty for not exercising and putting it off all day. The fact that the dishes aren’t done and that laundry is needing to be changed. I busted out my first aid kit and instantly remembered that I am SO glad I made it.
Reading through letters and looking at pictures reminded me that people care not about what weight, pant size, shirt size or minute exercise total I have. What they care about is my soul, my spirit, my internal beauty.
I keep coming back to this picture, which is hanging on my wall as a reminder that what I need to weigh/measure/exercise is the internal me.
Who in your life reminds you that you’re beautiful? What in your life shows you your internal beauty? Have you ever lost it/given it away?