Beautiful

Most women don't think they're enough. Not pretty enough, thin enough, tall enough, smart enough, rich enough.... Whatever it is - in our heads, we're not enough.

We're even taught that if someone tells us we are {insert compliment}, we should deny the idea. "Oh, please - look at my butt/abs/thighs/hair/etc." How can we ever have a healthy self-esteem if we're tearing ourselves down, even when others try to build us up?

It has taken me a long time (plus a lot of tears, and a little counseling) to learn that I really am enough. I'll never be thin, and the tall ship sailed about 30 years ago. I definitely look better some days more than others, but I know that I have plenty more to offer - and it makes me more than enough.

This morning I ran across this post about changing women's inner voice, the one that tells us we're not enough. It got me thinking - what if we all started telling each other how we really see one another? How much better would the world be if every woman saw her own value? Knew her own worth?

The thing is - we women have to listen. It won't do any good to hear positive words if we shoot them down.

If you know a beautiful woman, tell her. Tell her why she's beautiful. Tell her how she makes you feel; tell her why she's valuable.

Ladies, if someone tells you you're beautiful - listen. Don't dismiss the idea. Really hear that person tell you why you're beautiful, and say thank you. Believe them - because they're right.

That would make the world a much more beautiful place.

As good a place as any

Twenty years ago, 40 sounded ancient. I expected to feel old. I expected to be married, settled in a home, and in a career that was pretty secure. Instead, I'm....not any of those things.

Which, I then expected would make me feel sad. I thought I'd feel like a failure; like I'd let my life veer terribly off course, and I was going to lose a bunch of time as I tried to steer it back.

Turns out, much like my thirties, I was totally wrong about forty.

The year I turned 38 was a particularly bad one; 39 wasn't much better. More than one friend assured me I had nothing to worry about. Things get better at 40, they insisted. It's when life begins.

Still skeptical, I figured it couldn't hurt to at least try. I started envisioning what I'd like my life to look like at 40. As the date drew closer, I wasn't sure it would work out. I kept hoping, praying, keeping my fingers crossed. Then - poof! It all came together.

I used to look at 40 as an ending. It seemed so old, so final - what could I possibly look forward to after 40?

I've come to learn that is entirely the wrong way to look at things. The end should never be the goal. It shouldn't even be acceptable. We shouldn't look for endings; only new beginnings.

I started this blog to talk about the lessons I learned when I accepted that my life was never going to look the way I planned. I was a "30-something figuring life out - again. " As I'm no longer 30-something, I've been thinking this blog needs a new central message.

Since 40 seems to be a good place for my life to start over, I guess it's a good place for the blog to start over, too.

Here's to new beginnings.... 40 is as good a place as any.