So I’m in this salon.
Every woman that works here looks pristine. Black clothes. Sleek hair. Massive jewelry. Professional all the way. Which also includes stoic apparently.
After our ridiculous weekend, (I’m pretty sure we fit two weeks of work into four days) we escaped. Arthur headed to a concert. I got a pedicure. After I showed my beautician the picture of my Creation Mud Fest feet – she became slightly less concerned about my hygiene and understood my plight.
As she chiseled away the mud – I think maybe I stumbled across a wonderful truth. If you don’t care so much – you don’t worry so much.
Months ago as everyone started to worry about their bikini bodies – I simply didn’t care. I have a bathing suit I already feel totally adorable in. What is the point of 3 yogurts a day?
I don’t even like the stuff. Protein bars? I prefer to enjoy my food.
Don’t get me wrong, exercising and health awareness are extremely important. I can definetly tell when I eat my veggies for the week instead of a diet of Swedish fish. But – ya know I’m just not all that concerned about how I look in a bathing suit.
I’m having too much fun enjoying the sparkling water.
And it’s really wonderful.
I refuse to aim for perfection. It’s too heavy a burden. Years ago I realized if I went for the messy look with my hair I could sleep an extra 30 minutes.
Years before, when I was a kid – I remember seeing teenage girls and young women I thought were so pretty – and so worried about their bikini falling off with one good wave. I looked up to them but often wondered how they really enjoyed themselves constantly correcting their dishevelment. I was always too busy catching the waves.
Now don’t get me wrong – a few hours or a day of pampering is awesome; and if fashion is your thing more power to you. Go for it.
But at the start of the day I want to look into the mirror and think – yep that’ll work – and at the end of the day – I want to come home to a husband who says – yep that’ll work.
Priorities made. Burden lifted. Life lived. Time spent on things that matter. Stuff that won’t fade. Or wrinkle. Or age.
One of the most touching compliments I have ever received came from a surprisingly gruff source. A rather frumpy and distance acquaintance said to my husband in my earshot,
“Your wife is very beautiful. She’s one of the most beautiful women here. That’s because of her aura. She is always smiling. She brings a lightness to kindness to everyone around her. That makes her physical beauty quadruple.”
I was shocked by his discernment (judgmental party of one) and touched by the words. It is exactly the compliment I have always wanted to attain. I can’t control what I look like – skin deep is the luck of the draw. But I can control how I make others feel. All I want to do is shine. It seems when that’s your goal – some people see your radiance from within coming out.
I don’t say this for any other reason then to all those girls who follow me around at church who ever have or ever will – you have the ability to touch people more deeply and more beautifully then you’ll ever know. And you’ll never find the “how to” in any magazine or fashion vlog.
We weren’t made for perfection. We were made for relation.
Go run that mile. Go swim those laps. Go eat that ice cream with you friends. I dare you.