“Loving oneself isn’t hard when you understand who and what yourself is. It has nothing to do with the shape of your face, the size of your eyes the length of your hair or the quality of your clothes. It’s so beyond all of those things and it’s what gives life to everything about you. Your own self is a treasure.” – Phylicia Rashad
I Do! I Do!
Vivian Swift, in her book,When Wanderer Cease to Roam,” remembers back to a time when as a 21-year-old she and her then boyfriend, who met in Paris, were absolutely positive they were never going to be anything like their parents.
The boyfriend became a lawyer, settled down, married, had two kids and they all wear matching outfits for their annual Christmas card photos; Vivian settled down in a small Long Island Village with five cats, and admits that she heard the little girl next door call her the cat lady.
“Our 21-year-old selves would hate us,” she wrote, which of course got me thinking about my own 21-year-old self. I decided that insecure, barefoot and pregnant girl whose primary goal in life was for everyone to like her, would love the assertive, old broad she became. The truth is I didn’t even like myself when I was 21. But I do love the plump, sagging old broad I am at 76.
The years haven’t always been good to me, but they’ve certainly been good for me.
Bean Pat: Lessons on Becoming Xena http://tinyurl.com/nfkc5vv This is a Story Circle Network blog. The organization is the best writing support I’ve ever had. Check it out at: http://tinyurl.com/kn5bbrl