Tuesday, May 19, 2015


I know there are degrees of busy. I also know that there are those out there who would look at my schedule and my life and what I call "busy" and give a hearty scoff, because there would simply be no comparison to their own version of "busy". Okay, I get it. But what I am doing right now, in my current state of chaos, certainly does feel busy, and so I'm going with "what feels busy is busy", and so therefore, I am busy. Maybe it doesn't look anything like your busy, and your busy could probably trump my busy, but you do you and let me do me. I'm just sayin' there hasn't been much time to sit down and talk with y'all.

I could have (my top priorities of the day)
a) mulched
b) painted
c) walked with my friend
d) changed my sheets
e) cleaned the kitchen (instead of the spotty work I've done thus far)
f) cleaned the toilets
g) cleaned up the various toys, etc., that are laying around the house
h) weeded
i) written in my journal (a.k.a. blogging)

You obviously see where my priorities are. In my defense, I did paint for a while, because my sweet boy has taken to coming home every day after school asking "hey, mom, did you work on my room today????" because he is verra, verra excited over the transformation from "I don't care what my room looks like so do whatever you want" (if only everyone in the fam could have this attitude) to "I want a Virginia Tech room with one maroon wall, one orange wall, one wall with orange and maroon stripes, a hokie bird, and a giant VT". The fourth wall is up for debate. We are attempting to strike a balance so I can walk into his room. I'm not kidding. And all this coming from the kid who says "I DON'T CARE" to statements such as your outfit does not match, your socks do not match, your hair is getting in your eyes and looks like a bird's nest, and you stink and need to shower. He would really, really, REALLY (emphasis on REALLY) like for the entire transformation to be done by his birthday, which is on Monday. There is a slim to none chance that this will happen. He is hopeful. I like to see that.

I announced on Friday, to no one in particular, that I plan on getting my smile fixed. My husband looked at me with considerable side-eye incredulousness and cocked his head to one side, mouth open. "Huh?" he said, as if he has never heard of someone getting their smile fixed before.

"My SMILE", I repeated. "It's crooked and I'm getting it fixed." I won't promise that a) there was no tone or b) I wasn't looking for a bit of reassurance that, like J.Cole, my man might like a crooked smile.

no need to fix what God already put his paintbrush on.
{j.cole, crooked smile}

(Don't hold me responsible for the rest of the lyrics. It's a rap song. Don't have high expectations.)

I was snuggled up against him on the couch, and whatever he mumbled under his breath was against getting my crooked smile fixed. He's not a big fan of plastic surgery, hair color or a ton of makeup. He's also not a big fan of animals so sometimes I question that guys judgement. It takes a lot of willpower not to go ga-ga over a puppy.

He has no patience when I start talking what is to him complete nonsense.

What is nonsense is not plastic surgery, it's that I would even begin to consider my smile to be anything other than wonderful. A part of me, an invitation to be my friend, a friendly hello. But I don't like my smile and therefore don't like my pictures and sometimes refuse to smile a tooth-showing smile, even though my sister says my closed-mouth smile is less attractive and makes me look mad in pictures. It's also that I would compare myself to anyone and consider myself less than or even unattractive because I don't feel like I measure up to this societal standard of beauty that has been set.

(It is also nonsense that I am sitting here at the computer eating peanut butter out of the jar with no utensil. (Which is good and bad. Good, because I'm not obsessively measuring. Bad, because I am totally double-dipping and I totally don't care.) I had some apple slices that were my spoons but I ate them all, so a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do, and I'm hungry and the kitchen is at least 10 steps away. You may not want to partake of a peanut butter-and-anything combo next time you come over.)

I think girls sometimes just want to be pretty. So we compare and obsess and get two inches away from the mirror so we can analyze from every angle. I get it. I do the same thing. (Maybe I'm the only one who does this...)

But what I wish that we could all realize (myself included) is that we are. Yes, we are all pretty. We just are. The end. No comparing, no analyzing, no obsessing. Just living and loving and breathing and smiling and laughing. Waterfalls in Hawaii don't look anything like the French Alps, yet they are both so satisfyingly beautiful it takes our breath away.

God knew what he was doing when he made you, and he made you with distinct characteristics that make you you and that make you wonderful.

So, yes, we can smile. Because we are beautiful.

Image result for beauty quotes
all pics are from google images--except the one of me. Obvi. 

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