What You See Is Average Awesome

I am average. I just am. Nothing sparkly here, people. And that's so completely ok. I mean, I'm not horrid looking or anything, but I'm definitely a soft around the middle 30-something mom. And I don't think there is anything wrong with that. However, it's taken me a long time to get to this place. And it's a place I'm definitely not always in. Or even near, sometimes.

Growing up, I never thought I was even close to pretty. I was plain, bordering on not so cute. I never thought I was fat (because I wasn't...) but I never appreciated what I did look like. And then I went to college. Oh, college. How I loved you...I finally figured some things out. Like I WAS cute. And thin. And boys took notice. It was a nice time.

But then, time passed. I got married. And divorced. And remarried. And lived life. And became a mom. Those sorts of things tend to show on your face and body. And I've spent a lot of time the past few years hating it all. Precious, wasted time. My friend, Loralee, has written a couple of posts about labels and beauty. They've stayed on my mind for weeks. I've been trying to think of the times in my life that I've felt truly beautiful. I was failing miserably until I started listening to people.

It seems I've cultivated the reputation for being the "well dressed" one at church. While I started out choosing to see it as weird and delusional, I've now started to really listen and embrace that. It also seems that my husband finds me beautiful, which I thought was also weird until I really started to change my focus. And I have a toddler who spontaneously bursts out with "Mommy, you look beautiful" when I take the extra five minutes to make an effort. And we all know toddlers don't lie...

So, it would seem, that I may be average, but I am beautiful. Beautifully average is awesome and I can live with that.

Nothing average here:

(nothing ever hurt like you, james morrison: I'm kinda in love with this song. Just fyi...)