Pretty

As I sat at the computer tonight, I caught a glance of my reflection in the window above my monitor.  The first thing that went through my head was "Wow. It's the end of the day and you still look pretty."  I did a double take at my reflection and then I cried.

I am not what the world would call beautiful.  I will always be 6' tall with size 11 feet and hands that can palm a basketball.  My hair will always be blond and my eyes will always be hazel, which I love by the way.  Actually, I love all of those things about myself.  I LOVE being tall.  I can't even imagine being short.  Life must be difficult when you can't reach things.  I love my size 11 feet with their high arches and super cute toes.  I love my hands.  I can play parallel octaves on the piano with hardly any effort.  My fingers are strong with calluses from guitar strings and pens. I draw, write, cook, comfort and make music with my hands.  I love them.  I even think they are pretty. 

In college, I had a boy say to me:  "I look at you and think, she's not pretty, she's not ugly, but she's not pretty.  And then you smile, and your whole face lights up and you are beautiful."  I could never appreciate that comment because I could never get past the part where he said....  she's not pretty. 

I've spent my entire life blaming my body for the rejection I have faced and felt in my life.  If only I were pretty I would be loved.  If only I were short, thin and petite so no one would reject me.  If only, if only, if only.........

And then I went to therapy. 

My body is not separate from me, it is part of me.  When I criticize it, I am criticizing myself. If my body is never good enough, I am never good enough, and I am tired of feeling that way. 

What happened tonight, me feeling pretty, is evidence of my recovery.  It is evidence that I'm changing.  The best part is, it feels real and authentic. I'm not faking it. This is real genuine change.  And it feels amazing!