Remember when you were 15 and constantly looked at yourself in the mirror, inspecting all those pores and looking for imperfections? No? Yeah, me neither.

OK, yeah, I did it. I think it stopped when I stopped searching for a guy to share my life with. The year I had twins, I am pretty sure I stopped looking in the mirror altogether. For some reason, I did it again last week, and I wasn’t impressed. I realized pretty quickly that I had two choices: 1) Keep inspecting and find all my imperfections, then begin to hate myself because of them OR 2) Accept that I have imperfections, but stop looking for them and move on. I chose #2.

Now, don’t go thinking that I have fully accepted everything about physical being, because I certainly have not. It seems like it will take a life-time to completely accept my wrinkled belly, even though I know I should be grateful for how well it served as a home to three babies. I can’t really see myself ever wearing a bikini. And my freakin’ hair is driving me nuts (it’s the growing it out phase of my hair cycle… might quickly become the shave it-all-off-again phase). But I want to be accepting of myself and how I look. I also want to accept how my body works. Or doesn’t.

My back is crooked again. This has been on-again, off-again since Dec. 2008 (my back has a longer history, though, with surgery for scoliosis when I was almost 13), when I found out about my disc problem. I am no longer surprised when it happens, but I still get discouraged. I went to dance last night (as I do every week) because it’s usually my place to release stress and have fun. I knew I wouldn’t be able to move like usual, but I really let it get to me last night, with tears and all, keeping myself apart from the group. I guess I needed that. Once again, I saw it as two choices, just like with the mirror. I decided to move on, and surrender my situation. I was finally able to dance with everyone for the last few songs. As usual, Mike’s facilitation seemed to speak right to me, since he spoke of surrender, and allowing our bodies to move without effort. I so needed those words.

It always surprises me, but I am kind of grateful for my crooked back. Because of it, I have compassion for other people who can’t physically do what they feel they should be able to do. I am more grateful for my good days, when body feels strong. I am grateful for my children for keeping me from dwelling on my suffering.

If only I could be grateful for zits.

On a different note (how else do you segue from zits to music?), I have been listening to DiRTY RADiO non-stop for the last week. Once I hook onto something I like, I obsess and listen to it to death. Proud to say it’s Canadian music! Oh, and he can hit the high notes – why do I always love when guys can hit high notes??  I might have a little crush on him (yes, hubby knows about my crushes, it’s all good). Happy dancing!