All that we see..

.. Is far from perfect.

I look in the mirror this evening. Well; every day ~ especially since we have returned from holiday. 

I have gained weight – I know it; even without stepping on those dreaded scales to confirm. Of course I have. I spent the last three weeks eating pastries, waffles, pancakes and French toast for breakfast. Afternoon tea most days. Cocktails galore. Exercise – minimal. Of course I have gained weight. I am – almost – ok with it. Everyone, mostly, gains weight on holiday – when they loose themselves. I knew I would, and I have. It’s kind of ok, but it’s not. I see it clearly, very clearly on the scales. I expect, if I tried to fit into some of my smallest clothes from some 2 years ago – I would notice if. Yet sometimes, when I look in the mirror, I can’t see it. I know it is there, but where? I don’t know if this is good or bad. Some friends say it is positive – progress, if you like; as I have been seeing only fat previously. But I am not sure I have been put in the process to make progress – or that I even have; because I know, deep down, where my thoughts still lie.

We constantly see images of “perfection”. Now I know that often these are airbrushed – perfected. Yet it doesn’t change my opinion of myself. 

What is perfection? I will never be perfection. I am 29. I get (a scary amount of) grey hairs. Frequent split ends; despite rarely straightening/curling/blow drying my hair. I have chubby cheeks (yet dimples which are often loved). My face is wonky; I know this from wearing glasses/sunglasses; in fact, my current sunglasses arms are too long for my head. My boobs are saggy; far saggier than any other unchildless 29 year old. My thighs are large, my stomach with pouch – unlike an elite runner. My feet and hands are child sized; never given the opportunity to grow. My general body hair? Much like a jungle.

I like to think I portray online an honest image of my life. I guess I don’t always; without thought. Often the caption of an image might describe something opposite to what the image and hashtags appear. But my life – as is any – is far from perfect. Yes, we just flew first and business class halfway round the world and back – a lifelong dream for many. Would we do it again? Yes, if we could afford it. Would we rather have children of our own? Tomorrow.

Should we stop our lives and make a choice though? No. Why should anyone’s life pleasures be put on hold? Yes, I – we – want children and a family of our own. Should we forgo the rest of our lives – work, careers, livelihood, travel, exercise for that? 

No – of course not. And why should we when others seemingly achieve without doing so? I am no elite athlete – and if they can conceive; why can’t I? My body is used to running. If Miss/Mrs career woman is working like she always did; then changing that is unlikely to make any difference to her conceiving. If you are travelling – will you not conceive? No. Of course not – conception is a fortunate miracle. If you are married or not – will that make a difference to you bearing a child? We all know the answer is no.

Peoples lives may seem perfect; I do try to portray that sometimes they seemingly are, sometimes they aren’t. Why do so many still strive for such trivial aspects of what he/she/kardashians/so-and-so seemingly have? So what! Are you happy? Really? Good; keep it up.

Do I look pretty? Perfect? (No {chubby, and clearly saggy boobs}) A rare observation of myself thinks so [pretty; hair, face alight] but for how long, I wonder? 


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