(I am seriously that white.)
Yesterday, I wore a dress and rode my bike through the park to meet up for a coffee date with my friend Sonja. Isn't that a fabulous combination of words? Bike. Dress. Park. Sonja.
It just sounds springy, and springtime is my favorite. But it's the most frightening season. It's when you shed the sweaters to realize you miiight have put on a few pounds. (I call those pounds "evidence of wedded bliss".) For me, it's also the season when I bare my legs + shoulders and remember that my heritage is infact German, German, German. White with a smattering of freckles.
And it's not going to change...I'm really, really pale. A pale girl in a world obsessed with bronze skin. From time to time, I feel insecure about my endless supply of white skin and I take the edge off with a bit of sunless tanning lotion. Only a bit, though. Because the truth is...I'll always be pale. And curvy. And that's okay. Actually, I wouldn't want to change either quality too much.
It's part of who I am, and the older I get the more confident I am in saying this: I'm learning to like me.
And it's strange, because I feel some are surprised to hear a woman like her pale skin or large hips. Or her full cheeks. Her curly hair and or large nose. As if liking things not seen in magazines or on TV is all sorts of wrong. How sad! Heck, hearing a woman say she likes herself immediately gets my attention, because it's so rare.
Why do we allow that? Why aren't we celebrating what we love about ourselves, or even vocally acknowledging the traits we've warmed up to?
Today, riddle me this: What's one thing you really love about yourself?