I Really Let Myself Go
These past few years I REALLY let myself go.
But not in the way you might think.
I let go of other people’s expectations.
I let go of comparison and striving.
I let go of proving and performing.
I let go of the constant need to be ‘perfect.’
Because somewhere along the way I learned this wonderful truth…
Perfect is PRETEND!!
And I want to LIVE this one precious, beautiful, ordinary life…EXACTLY the way I am.
As ME!!!
So, these days when I go into a store I don’t grab one size smaller. And cross my fingers. Or stuff myself in only to leave disappointed. Swearing once again, ‘That’s it. I’m done with carbs forever.’
I just reach for the size I actually wear. The size I’ve been wearing off and on for the last 10+ years.
Besides, I’m going to throw on one of the same three tank tops or sweatshirts anyway. I know what I like!! And I like to be comfortable!
Yep. These past few years I REALLY let myself go.
So, I cheer REAAAAALLLLY loud at basketball games.
‘Whooooooo!!!!!’
And I sing REAAAAALLLY loud in the car.
Or at church.
Sometimes I dance in the kitchen.
And whenever I feel like it, I eat ice cream.
Sure, I grow my own veggies, too. I make a dang good guacamole. And I run three miles nearly every single day.
But chocolate peanut butter ice cream makes me VERY HAPPY…so I eat it!!!
Mmm. Hmmm. These past few years I REALLY let myself go.
So, most days I leave my skin bare. Who has time for make up?? It’s too hot, anyway!!
I keep my nails bare, too (unless I decide to paint them turquoise!).
And these few streaks of gray in my hair?? I’m letting them be for now.
Oh, and I always, always, ALWAYS choose comfortable footwear!
You should see my sock tanline!!!
I know. These past few years I REALLY let myself go.
I bet if my 20-something self could see me now, she’d wrinkle her nose a little.
She’d whisper to her friends, “Wow. She REALLY let herself go.”
And she’d be right.
I did!!!
But I’d look over at that sweet girl now and know…
She is hungry. And she’d really like a sandwich.
She is pleasing someone ALL the time. And somehow that person is almost NEVER herself.
She is scared. And unsure.
She often feels very, very alone.
And, yes, those heels look amazing…
But her feet REALLY HURT!!
I wish I could hug her tight. Then pull her out to arms-length and look her straight in the eyes and say…
‘Honey. You know, you don’t have to do all that. You don’t have to look any certain way. Or act any certain way. Or achieve any certain thing. Sweetheart, I promise. You are already enough. You ARE! You don’t have a single thing to prove. Just let go. Let yourself GOOOOO!! And, for goodness sake, put on some comfortable shoes!’
Today I am 41 years old.
And I REALLY let myself go…
Thank God.
Now I’m free.
To be ME.
