Week 3: know thyself

Yes, week 3 ended last Tuesday while I was enraptured by the marvels of Michigan and simply computer-less. My apologies, again. Instead of getting pissy about how clearly tardy this reflection comes, you could, perhaps, find some space for gratitude that my thoughts have had a few extra days to simmer richness into their meaning...perhaps.

Ladies, what's the single most challenging article of clothing to shop for? ...and they all responded: JEANS!

It was "cold" and I needed to wear pants that were not running leggings or yoga pants because eI was going out to lunch with my grandparents. And, in my brilliance, the only pair of jeans I had brought home was well-worn, slightly-baggy, and slightly torn--not lunch with the grandparents appropriate. So off to the store I scooted. And was soon as I walked in, I realized I was embarking in a feel-only based investment--I was going shopping without the ability to deem my appearance satisfactory based on the image in the mirror. Brilliant, just brilliant. 

Clothes shopping is not on the list of top 100 things I enjoy. I love clothes but hate the shopping part, the trying-on part, the staring at oneself in the mirror part. Shopping while banned from mirror gazing requires a different skill set involving a lot of trust. 

Trust the sales people: "You can always ask what we think," she said, and smiled. "It's what we're here for."

But ultimately trust yourself: Doing lunges in the fitting room helps discern mobility, but how can I know how my boot looks or if the pockets cut too low? Trust what feels right. Luckily, I'm not actually that picky about jeans. Still, I felt a wave of panic strike me as I handed over my credit card. 

Without the opportunity to use the mirror as my truth-teller, I've begun listening to my body and my heart. If my clothes feel good, I feel good, and when I feel good, I look good because I sparkle as I smile. When I show up at a formal awards dinner without looking at myself once in the mirror, I have to believe that even if my makeup isn't perfect, it's good enough. My makeup skills aren't what got me there anyway. 

In general however, I haven't been wearing makeup--freedom--not that I wear much regularly anyway. When you really don't know what you look like other than what your facebook profile picture shows, you've got no barometer with which to understand how people look at and treat you. Is there a big pimple on my chin? Do I have jelly smeared on my cheek? How unruly are my eyebrows? It's not that I no longer care, I most certainly do. Rather, I have crawled into a space of patience and peace with myself. Good enough really exists. 

What lies within me sparkles and creates and discovers and questions and loves and heals.

Considering that, why would I choose to give attention to the doubting, criticizing, perfection-seeking outside world of mine?