You guys. Here we have – weird orange cloud cover, flowering Dogwoods, early(EARLY) Spring in San Diego, and date night with my husband. It’s pretty much as good as when you peel an orange and you get those little baby slices in there and you’re all hey! Baby orange slices!
This is Joe looking especially handsome in Yard House.
Sometimes I think I have a really solid idea of what I look like. On the outside. It’s been days. Weeks. Months. I haven’t really looked at myself hard in the mirror, granted, but I’ve lost a number of pounds and gone down a number of clothing sizes and I’m feeling more than adequate. I’m feeling good.
Pretty. More than pretty? Yes, when my husband looks at me a certain way, I feel more than pretty. And I guess I’m looking at myself through his eyes more than my own. Which has severe disadvantages when he’s having an off day. Judging yourself by how someone else sees you is always a trap and completely unfair to both people.
I’m working on gathering how I see myself back under my own purview, being more self-reliant. Really looking at myself. Part of what’s so scary about it, is really seeing myself and being ok with what I see. Letting go of what I think I’m supposed to look like and being fine with what I actually look like. Because let’s face it – I look like I look, whether I’m fine with it or not.
Friends, riddle me this: How many times does a girl have to eat the perfect three bites out of the center of a delicious buttermilk pancake to learn that even those three mouth-watering, delectable bites will probably send her on emergent trips to the restroom a scant few hours later while the Target pharmacist is trying to talk to her about getting all her meds to auto-refill on the same day of the month? I eat Paleo for a reason. And yet. Every. Single. Time.
Here’s what I love about this picture:
1. I haven’t yet eaten 3 bites of a pancake that are going to make me ill.
2. Joe’s hair. I mean, really.
Here are our shoes while we wait for a table.
I assure you, Joe does have another shoe attached to another leg just to the right, off frame.
And then, and I know this is really exciting for you all, I changed shoes a few hours later and put on these before we went out with friends:
You guys, I love these shoes. I really, really, do. They are orange. They are cork. My husband says they are sexy. Most importantly, I can walk in them and not fall down.
The evening ended at Top of the Hyatt with friends where we imbibed cocktails and talked for hours and stared at the view. I love being able to see Emerald Plaza from up there (green rings far right in the image below).
This is what I see in the morning when I fire up my computer. This guy. I mean, I also see the live version walking around the house, so in that respect, whatever, but when the live version is at work, it’s nice to have this version on my screen.
Me: If you tell me the problem is with me and not with my machine, we’re going to have a big problem.
Joe: What do you want me to say?
Me: Tell me the problem is with my hardware. Or my software. Whatever. I don’t care.
Joe: So, just not with you.
Joe: You’ve done nothing wrong.
Me: Right. Exactly. Say that.
Joe: You’ve made no mistakes.
Me: Thanks. Yes. I’ve made no mistakes. Nothing is my fault. As far as you know, every goddamn thing I’ve done up until this point has been exemplary and I’ve done every single thing P.E.R.F.E.C.T.
Me: What. What!
Me: Why are you looking at me like that? Is it so hard to imagine that I haven’t done anything wrong and the problem is really with my laptop and not with me? Because it-
Joe: I was pretty sure the next thing out of your mouth was going to be, “By the way, I also invented WordPress.”
Me: I did. I invented WordPress.
Joe: *sigh* And that’s why I married you.
i looked up and you were staring at me,
your eyes were a little too wide,
your lashes long and dark.
i love you like crazy, i said,
and you suddenly smiled, looked down.
you packed at the last minute
throwing things in a duffel
it’s your way, it’s a good way.
i love you like mad, i whispered,
and you squeezed my hand, grabbed your toothbrush.
you wrapped me up in warm
kissed me hard, again, then again
the airport doors shwapped open and ate you whole.
i love you so hard, i said, you’re my favorite
but you were already gone.
Take me to the beach, I whispered, silky soft in his ear.
He wrapped me in his warmth beneath the covers.
I need to see the waves in every shade of green and blue and frothy white, I told his mind without uttering a sound.
He padded down the hall, got his sandals, keys.
We drove five miles, wind whistling through the vent, the heater waking up.
Ocean water swirled and raced, bubbled, then calmed and went away.
Surfers danced on ten foot waves through the pilings, praying their religion under the pier.
Grit between my toes, pulling my sweater close, I took a breath and then another.
He took my hand, pointed out evidence of birds, busy as on every other day, beaking mites from the sand.
Today is different, I told them as we walked. Today I’m in remission.
The wind whipped my words away before they heard me.
They wouldn’t care, even if they knew.
We went for eggs, forked avocado and endless coffee.
Across the table, he smiled, wrapping me in the warmth of his eyes.
I smiled back.