No, it isn’t my birthday. But we just came back from vacation, and I realized on this trip that I miss my youth.
I was, for the greater part of my years, completely oblivious to how I looked, but somehow I was preooccupied at the same time with being self concious. Like all of you, I have the parts of me that I am more self concious about than others. On this trip, however, I was nearly completely lacking in any self awareness – so on the one hand, I just did what I wanted to, digging in teh sand with Grace, jumping over the waves as commanded by my children, and wearing what was comfy. I think it was something like going topless on teh beach in France when I was a teen – looking around, there was always someone much more interseting to look at (for the good and for the bad) so I realized that no one was probably looking at ME.
Phil made an observation recently about becoming middle aged invisible, and on this trip, surrounded by the fair Spanish beauties in full makeup and heels, I didn’t feel like there was much I could do to garner a glance. It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, but it was an interesting situation.
Of course, the thing to do here is to acknowledge that since I can’t go back and tell that perky 20 year old me in the orange and black bikini on spring break to stop worrying so much, and to be confident, I guess I will look in my little bag and dig out a piece of paper and write a note to myself today, from the future me.
Here’s what I will say to myself: