Unapologetic

I have spent most my life apologizing. For being too fat. Too slow. Too needy. Too desperate. Too motivated. Too unmotivated. For having no kids to having too many kids. I have felt many things in my life have been scrutinized. If it wasn’t picked apart by someone else, it was most definitely picked apart by me.

There have been some major victories in my life, ranging from “beating the odds” of having kids to losing over one hundred pounds. Perhaps my biggest miracle is life itself; some days and years I thought it would be great to just not exist. And in these victories, I have often hung my pride.

But you know what’s ridiculous? If there are any medals to be hung about anything, they just melt away within moments. In a blink, there’s a new day with new amazements and new reasons to just. not. be. enough. Humans are so fickle.

My best friend, Rebekah and I went on a short reading voyage of picking one theme word for 2018. It seemed sentimental and an inspiring thing to do and we flung our thoughts and emotions into it. Five short days later, we arrived at conclusions. For me, I chose the word free.

I loved the idea. I envisioned saying yes to things that I normally would shy away from, strutting with confidence and courage and anticipation. But then I feared the reality of attempting to be free. I thought about seeing pictures or rehashing conversations and a sudden squash of embarrassment filled my gut. A shame of feeling too chubby when viewing the pictures or feeling judged or misunderstood by things I said. So, it had to change. Free didn’t seem right.

One morning I stood before the mirror. I was looking at my belly of fat and excess skin. I was looking at my face and the new lines that were slowly appearing. I looked at my hair that was absorbing every ounce of iron from our well water which made it orange instead of blonde. I looked at my moles that seemed to be exploding off my body (thanks, Mom). I looked at my blue eyes and five tattoos and teeth that were more yellow than white due to my coffee addiction. And though my body stole most of my gaze, I felt a weird surrender.

I knew this girl.
I knew this woman.
I knew her story.
This was me.

Every ugly day has brought me a deeper beauty that could never be contained on a mere body of bones, skin, and fat. These “flaws” tell my story, my journey, and my struggles along the way.

My word had to change. It was time to be…unapologetic.

What if I owned her? What if I stood tall, satisfied, unreformed by society? What if I just committed to being me and not look around for anyone else’s approval or disapproval?

What. would. happen.

I told Rebekah that I just wasn’t sure how this word would play out or what it completely meant. I am only month two into unapologetic and have to admit, I am still debating the girth of the word. While I picked it for very clear reasons, it is something I wrestle with everyday. But just as quick as I stated my uncertainties, Rebekah said, “Well, we have all year to figure that out.”

And yes. Yes, we do.