Maybe it's just a recurring theme in my own consciousness, or maybe there really is a prevalence of the what I call the "pendulum of feminine" lately, but I've decided I don't want to swing anymore.
It seems to me the world has carved out neat little compartments for where a woman of my age and experience should be and I don't like any of them and have deliberately chosen to discount them all.
I'm not a perfect Pinterest mom with projects at the ready and crock pot recipes planned but I am proud when some creative juices flow and have snapped a pic or two of a meal that impressed me. My kitchen counters are clean for now because we were out of town all weekend, and there are some hefty dust bunnies under the love seat and what irks me about this isn't the dust, it's that I've allowed the dust to keep me from forging friendships and inviting in laughter.
I'm not a badass because there are still times fear stops me in my tracks and that doesn't make me weak or submissive, it makes me human. There's beauty in the ebb and flow of emotion, relation and communication of a woman and you can't appreciate being, or being in the presence of this beauty if it's in-your-face to prove-a-point.
I am not a poster child of perfect calorie consumption nor do I sweat the daily recommended requirement consistently. After years of different food plans and exercise ideas my thighs may still curve wider than my hips and my skin may be dimpled but when I look in a mirror I feel love.
I'm 2nd runner up to the world's worst thank you card writer and I don't have a Norman Rockwell family but I'm not defined by the things I don't do, if I were, this post would never be finished.
In today's Instagram society we put our best face (or meal, or workout, or ______) forward then chase our own face ...never stopping to think it's not a race.
What would happen if I just stop to be human. If I just usher in the unremarkable.
And SHARE the unremarkable...because it's those moments that are truly remarkable.
It seems to me the world has carved out neat little compartments for where a woman of my age and experience should be and I don't like any of them and have deliberately chosen to discount them all.
I'm not a perfect Pinterest mom with projects at the ready and crock pot recipes planned but I am proud when some creative juices flow and have snapped a pic or two of a meal that impressed me. My kitchen counters are clean for now because we were out of town all weekend, and there are some hefty dust bunnies under the love seat and what irks me about this isn't the dust, it's that I've allowed the dust to keep me from forging friendships and inviting in laughter.
I'm not a badass because there are still times fear stops me in my tracks and that doesn't make me weak or submissive, it makes me human. There's beauty in the ebb and flow of emotion, relation and communication of a woman and you can't appreciate being, or being in the presence of this beauty if it's in-your-face to prove-a-point.
I am not a poster child of perfect calorie consumption nor do I sweat the daily recommended requirement consistently. After years of different food plans and exercise ideas my thighs may still curve wider than my hips and my skin may be dimpled but when I look in a mirror I feel love.
I'm 2nd runner up to the world's worst thank you card writer and I don't have a Norman Rockwell family but I'm not defined by the things I don't do, if I were, this post would never be finished.
In today's Instagram society we put our best face (or meal, or workout, or ______) forward then chase our own face ...never stopping to think it's not a race.
What would happen if I just stop to be human. If I just usher in the unremarkable.
And SHARE the unremarkable...because it's those moments that are truly remarkable.
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