It’s all over the place–laments about the Pandemic pounds, Covid calories, quarantine crash (I couldn’t think of a Q word). It’s women with their “I’m not pretty/thin/young/buff/perfect enough.”
I’m not immune. I’ve been through YEARS when I was that person hiding when photos were taken.
No more. I’m getting ready to pitch my novel to agents who, I know, will check me out in social media. A good writer friend had a face-to-face last fall with potential agent who remarked that she didn’t look “dangerous.” Her (fabulous) book has an out of control female lead character. My book? The lead character is dying. Will they say I don’t look sick enough? Or zombie enough?
Recently in the hospital for minor surgery, I felt that girlish flush when the nurse told me that I didn’t look anywhere near my age. I admit to slight editing if my Irish skin is looking too outraged by the sun. Or the ever handy cropping tool. No one needs to see everything.
But mostly, I am who I am and you are who you are, no matter what.
I’ve been gym-rat buff, all sorts of weights thanks to pregnancies, young and not as young. There are words I never use for myself or anyone. The F word is at the top of the list. Thank goodness for Lizzo and a new generation of women coming along who are living life big as in big fun, big ambition, big time. And as a beach bunny, I am absolutely with the notion that if there’s a beach and you have a body–voila beach body.
I’m thinking about all this because one of my friends, who I’ve not seen for years except on FB said today that “You look calm, fulfilled, and brilliant. The light IS shining from within. You are radiant.”
That is everything. It’s the look in the eyes of 6yo me. I am shining because 75k of my words are circulating to potential agents, as I write. I’m calm because my daughters and granddaughter are safe and healthy. I feel #ucking unstoppable. I wish the same for you because, you know, I think you’re beautiful.