Inside Story

I have dimpled thighs.

And some gray hairs.

My teeth would be a whole lot whiter

if I drank less Diet Coke.

 And you know what else?
I have a pooch.
No, not a dog, although I do have two of those.

I have a tummy pooch.

I am imperfect.

Flawed.

Less than ideal.

  But I am more than the sum of my parts.
I am imperfect, but I am perfectly so.  Like my worn out French bread box, there is beauty in my scars.
My blemishes.
Signs of age.

Our cult of youth encourages us to banish what has been hard earned.

"How soon hath Time, the subtle thief of youth. . . . "

{John Milton}

But I do certainly know 

that the measure of my worth

as a woman

and as a child of God

lies not in what the eye can see

but what is hidden from view.

Love yourselves, imperfections and all.

Just as God does.

"So we do not lose heart.  Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day."

{2 Corinthians 4:16}