This is more than salmon and a pedicure can fix.

Summer is here. Thank you sweet baby Jesus. I love nothing more than sleeping in late. I love running around my yard for 6 to 7 hours at a time working and cleaning it up. I love to plop myself out by a pool (any friend will do) and lay there until the sun sets. I love the late nights on a porch with an evening thunderstorm rumbling in the distance. I love the beach trips that have been planned throughout the winter and the celebration of birthdays for some of my best friends. It's a time to replan my classroom, curriculum, and gear up for another year of third grade antics. It is definitely my happy place for the next 90 days. 

With that being said, several people have upped the anty on working out and doing whatever it takes to become ready for the summer. I know I have. Running in the mornings, barre class at night, random yoga stretches in my home, not to mention the sweat and pounds I drop from working in my yard, I too am trying to get it in gear. Along with the increased number of people trying to get that better body in two weeks before going to the beach- the SLEW of magazine covers about having a better body has flocked my Nook, iPad and mailbox. Excited to have some down time to catch up on my guilty pleasures of Us Weekly, Cosmo, Glamour, and Allure- I was disappointed to see images of "A Better Body!" "See how she lost 25 pounds in 3 months!" And my favorite: "A bikini for every body type! Your guide right here!" Thanks. Because Target has done a great job at letting me know that even their size L and XL bottoms may very well not cover my Colombian butt. Do you know how hard it is to find a matching 2-piece with two contrasting sizes? Plus I'm not one to wear a one piece. Just not me. 

I am content with my body. I have learned in the past year to wear clothes that make me feel good and confident. My hair is finally at the length I want it, and my skin has that summer glow that I have missed since October. I have lost some weight and I continue to work towards my goal. But in the meantime, I struggle with the now. Let me give you example. 

Have you ever stood in front of the mirror, naked, and dried your hair? Talk about staring at parts of your body that you don't normally see on a daily basis. With thick, long hair like mine, the drying process takes a good 10-15 minute. It gets hot and humid, especially with the summer heat lurking outside my window. The other day I was in a hurry and was hot. I couldn't stand to put a piece of clothing on at the moment because sweat was dripping off my boobs, down my legs, and my baby curls were curling up underneath on the back of my neck. As I dropped the towel to dry my hair, I noticed two huge red bite marks: one on my left boob, and one beside my belly button. I'm allergic to Mosquitos so I just brushed it off and continued to dry my hair. As I continued to stare at myself in the mirror, dry my hair and watch the strands of hair fall out (because I swear I don't have enough pores in my head to hold all my hair) I instantly became critical of myself. I started making mental note of the areas I want to improve. But those two huge red marks on my front just stood out. When I finished drying my hair (now looking like Simba's long lost African sister from the Lion King) I started looking at those imperfections a little bit more closely. Where the heck did those bad boys come from? Great. There is no way I can cover or hide them while in a bathing suit. Just another reminder that I do not have the flawless, glowing skin that we all want- no matter how much salmon or tuna I eat each week. I think movie stars have it injected in their skin, bathe in it, and snort I through their nose. 

Anyway, as I type this I look down at my poor pitiful bandaged scarred up feet. Not my most enduring trait, honestly and several can testify that. It's a running joke between my family and friends.  I wondered out loud earlier this week if I could get plastic surgery on my feet. But now as I look at my feet, I think to myself how they tell a story of me. These feet have suffered busted glass and splinters, several years moving me across a dance floor, running around a pool then scrapping them on the cement of my grandparents' pool as I hit the bottom from the water slide to push myself back to the surface; they have carried me on hundreds of miles around Dorman in the morning and afternoon runs, helped me move swiftly across my classroom floor when I cannot take another moment in wedges, found comfort in cowboy boots during the rainy days; my feet have splashed in a creek to dig up rocks and stones, stained by spray paint, burned from the bottom of a black driveway when I would run to the mailbox thinking it couldn't be THAT hot (always wrong); my feet have carried me out of places that I didn't think I would the energy to leave, helped me stand my ground when I needed to be honest, and has pushed me to move on.  So my feet wouldn't exactly be me if they were polished, plain, and pedicured all the time. I'm not saying my feet are a nasty Brittney-Spears-barefoot-in-a-gas-station kind. I would love pedicures but my level of being ticklish, the funds to do this, and my missing (achem) nail at the moment doesn't make it possible. So I am stuck with my God given feet that I try to make purdy with a tan and some fresh polish each week. 

It's hard to not compare yourself to others around you. Just recently I went a week or two without a Facebook profile picture. I hate taking pictures of myself and my other profile pictures were old- I was tired of my choices. And the thought of a #selfie just to have a profile picture seemed arrogant to me. No offense to my FB friends who take gorgeous selfies! You are my inspiration- I just can't. I finally bit the bullet and did one yesterday. Not my favorite but it will do. 

Finding your inner confidence and what makes you feel great can be challenging and we lose sight of it. We change and what used to make us feel good no longer does the trick. Or maybe it's circumstances or situations or even relationships that we are in cause us to falter and question our strengths and what we deserve. Sometimes I think it's more than just working out to feel good about yourself. Even the fittest and most gorgeous woman can have her confidence waiver. And I am not writing this for people to tell me I'm beautiful or compliment me so I can grab hold of some extra arrogance. I am writing this because I know all women deal with this same issue. Maybe you just had a baby. Maybe you're pregnant and you're watching your body change to grow something miraculous (my prayers are with you). Maybe you have gained some weight or maybe you feel like you're stuck in a rut. Maybe you're in a sucky relationship or maybe you haven't found yourself in a relationship since Obama took office and you feel like there is no end in sight because my good gosh when does his term end?!? The options are endless. So what do you do when you need that little boost? How are you maintaining sanity with bikinis hanging in our face, the newest weightloss fad blowing up your newsfeed, and you don't remember your shorts being that tight last summer? 

As for me, I'm just going to skip over how Beyoncé keeps her figure and another picture of JLo's abs and head towards the section of how to help my hair survive in humidity while I enjoy a glass of Prosecco, but not before I pin some more healthy recipes on Pinterest and just how to get those bat wings to be gone in 90 days. Cheers! 

You are imperfect, permnantly, and inevitably flawed. And you are beautiful. {Amy Bloom}

Girl, just date yourself.

   I saw this quote on Pinterest tonight and it made me think of how I have been wanting to write a blog post about dating yourself. And after my day today, I knew I needed to go ahead and write about it.

   When "the boy" and I broke up last October, I was obviously very upset. But it wasn't just because I had lost one of my best friends and the only guy I have ever loved but because I knew I was going to be....a-l-o-n-e. I knew I was going to have to face some pretty dark fears and get used to the idea of being just...me. I had made the relationship become the center of my world that I lost myself and who I was--truly. That was the first step--realizing that I sucked at life and I needed to get over it. The reality didn't hit until probably two months after the breakup. As I found myself spending time alone at night, with no one to talk to, and no one to plan weekends for but myself-- I realized that I all of a sudden had this freedom and I wasn't doing a darn thing with it. I wasn't happy with myself, physically and emotionally. I was a wreck. I refused to drink for the longest time because I knew I would hit rock bottom so hard, contact someone I didn't need to and just make a fool of myself. I would put on a façade at work, and then come home and break down. Right before Christmas break, I knew the only way I was going to get through that holiday and my birthday the next week was to pull up my big girl panties and start to move on.

   As the process began, I was trying to figure out "me." And I guess it didn't hit me until I had Lisa tell me, "I miss my Baby Jess. Where is the girl that when I call to see what you are doing, you tell me that you are in the middle of making curtains because you were bored? Or, I would come over and I would find you in the middle of the dining room floor, with an empty bottle of wine, painting a canvas because you found a quote you loved? Where is the girl that throws on her boots, favorite black shirt and scarf and is ready for life?" Yeah...where the heck had I been? I knew if I didn't know myself, then I definitely couldn't start to move on. Because during those two months of "nothing," the guys I met was just hopeless. It was all emotions. It was a complete and total disaster. Each time And it wasn't necessarily the guys that was hopeless--I was. I gave up by February. I knew I needed to take time for me and not push anything.

   So what did I do? I started to date myself. I knew I needed to take better care of me. I hated myself. So I made a list of things that I didn't like about myself. But for every negative I had about me, I made myself write a positive. It's easy to point out your own flaws, but so dern hard to figure out what you like about yourself. If I didn't like me, then how could anyone else? I thought to myself, "Maybe that's why the relationship ended. I wasn't being me. He didn't even like me anymore." I beat up myself a little bit along the ways, and my friends were incredible cheerleaders. However, as I focused on my more positive things, I found myself feeling better.

    I started with my hair. I have great hair. And I don't say that in a bragging way. It's thick, dark, and has an easy natural curl that isn't a pain to deal with but can easily be straightened. I don't have to wash it every day but rather can go three days. So, I started putting more effort into fixing my hair. Betsy even came over one night to find me in rollers and bobby pins, playing "beauty shop." (Girl has got to do something to occupy her Friday night at home.) Then, I moved onto focusing on my curves. That has been my biggest obstacle. I have never fully embraced my body type because God blessed me with a big butt. So I started finding clothes that I felt the best in-- not necessarily the clothes that were in style. I treated myself to new shoes or a couple new pairs of shirts. Because when you dress frumpy and don't have a sense of confidence in what you are wearing-- your day is doomed. When I am having a "day," I put on my favorite outfit for that moment and just go with it. But sometimes, that outfit calls for yoga pants with a t-shirt and that is completely ok-- just not all the time. Next, I treated myself (and I still do this) with make up. I could easily spend $100 on Bare Minerals make up, but that isn't included in my monthly budget. I started to swap out my powders, foundations, and blushes for more simple, natural look (and much cheaper). I started to receive more compliments about how I was glowing (thought only pregnant women get that look). The only splurge I have on make up is with mascara and eye liner. That can make or kill a look. I will spend $13 on a tube of mascara if it does wonders for my eyelashes. And girls, I am telling you-- if you do that, you'll feel like you're going to be on the next commercial for Extremely Long Beautiful Full Eyelash {insert brand commercial name here}. Next, I started making myself cook dinner for me. I figured one day I will have to cook for a family so I need to learn some basics while I am living alone. I have perfected the best spaghetti with fresh veggies; I have a signature meatloaf; I have perfected BowTie pasta with peppers and mushrooms; I have learned several different ways to cook squash and zucchini; I can multi-task and have all burners going at the same time and not burn anything down. Total success. When I do cook, I turn on music and just go with it. I love a night of cooking for myself. I feel totally accomplished.

    Lately, I have challenged myself to tackle things that I would not have normally done. Yard work and landscaping became my obsession over the summer. Some friends of mine and I just took out half my yard and busted tail to make it look amazing. I now find myself looking forward to Saturdays and Sundays working around my yard by myself. It has become a time for me to think about some things, lose a few pounds, and really take out some aggression with those hedge trimmers. Today, I did something else that I almost did not do. But, with my inner competiveness, I made myself do it: I learned how to surf behind a boat today. With some amazing friends, I was able to get it done. Each time I face planted in the water, I told myself, "You can do it. Focus. You got this. Prove it." And with each attempt, I got a little bit better, until eventually I found myself up and riding and getting a little bit braver each time. Had I not pushed myself and just hid in the corner of the boat (like I was doing), I would have regretted it big time. But nope. Next time, I'm not going to use my hands.

   My point being: date yourself. Find out what you like. Do your own thing. Throughout all this, I have found my confidence. I speak my mind more when I am not happy (well, not all the time but I am getting better) and I stand up for what I think or when someone has made me mad. I find ways to entertain myself, like running up and down the hallway in my socks, to see how far I get without busting my tail. And when you've found that happy medium, dating won't seem like such a big deal. Who needs a guy to make you feel special when you can do so much more for yourself? After all, shouldn't you know YOU better than anyone else?