My mom's weight was 87 pounds a couple of weeks ago.
She spent the majority of her adult life worrying about being overweight. And sadly, sometimes she would call me and begin the conversation with "how much do YOU weigh"? Kind of constantly comparing the two of us (for whatever reason?) It never really mattered, but I wondered why it seemed a big deal for her.
So as I see pictures of her frail, tiny body, memories flood in. But I also find myself thinking about how we all tend to find fault in ourselves, internally criticizing and searching outward for validation that we look ok, we sound ok, we "fit in" ok. And in the end? Does it really matter what others think? Maybe the best bet is to have or discover an internal dialogue that reminds us we are enough. We are pretty enough. We are perfect enough. We are magnificent in our own, unique way. We are the best at any given moment-- and at any given moment we are subject to change.
The inside is the only thing that matters. The ONLY thing that matters.
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