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.

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