Comfortable in YOUR own Skin

Hi!  I'm Gilly.  Soon to be 43, Yankee transplant living in the deep South, mother of two beautiful daughters, married for 17 + years, new blogger.  For years, people have told me I should blog, and I have hesitated to do so.  It seems like everyone has one, why would anyone read mine?  I'm hoping that you will connect with me and feel like we know one another, after a time.  I'm not a professional in beauty/cosmetics, psychology, health or wellness any more than the next person, but I am REAL, and occasionally, I'm told, funny. :-)

I encourage your comments and suggestions as I continue on this blogging journey.  Here we go...

Do you remember being 11 or 12 and suddenly feeling like every part of you was magnified?  Every blemish seemed monumental, a bad-hair-day meant a single stray hair was not cooperating, and every outfit needed to be dazzling? For me, it felt like if any one of these things wasn't PERFECT, my day would be terrible, everyone would notice, I would lose friends, and my life would be over.   And it got worse.  I became a teenager.  My Mom has passed (a story for a future blog) and I sure wish I could apologize now for my wild mood swings that lasted from 1982-1989.  Now, with two daughters of my own, I consider it payback time.  Some adult women forget this turbulent time, and others, like me, still hold these tender feelings from long-ago close to the surface.  I remember.  But, the great news is, I am not a teenager anymore.  This week I will begin my 44th year and although I sometimes miss my 19 year old body, I wouldn't trade feeling comfortable in my own skin for it.  No way.

Flashback to fall 1988, my college dormitory at Penn State University.  Simmons Hall, 4th floor.  My RA and two roommates were waiting for me, as usual, to finish primping and perfecting myself to go eat in the dining hall downstairs.  I had curlers in my hair, a fresh outfit planned and while they all stood waiting in the hallway, I ran down to the shared bathroom to quickly shave my legs.  Yes, I had to make sure that my legs were shaved because G-d forbid some fox that I was scoping were to notice that my legs were not perfectly smooth!  My future husband would NOT be scared off by prickly calves!  In all my rush, I ended up in a puddle on the floor center stage in front of all my friends, earning me the permanent nickname "Sammy-the-Seal".  My RA was a Penn State Cheerleader, and she relished being down on the field, game-day, doing her impression of me slipping and sliding on the dorm floor, Sammy Style!  I share this story because it exemplifies my insecurities I suffered as a girl, not yet a woman.  Can you relate?  I remember that Gillian, and am glad I've outgrown her.  It's about being comfortable with who you are and being confident that others will like you for who is on the INSIDE.

My twenties were the start of my journey towards this goal; it was a pain-the-the-ass figuring out who I was.  I was probably at my peak for physical beauty, but still so unsure of myself,  forever concerned with people's perception of me, my looks and my talents.  In my thirties, I had my babies, and physical perfection was no longer an option, although I worked hard to maintain a healthy body during and post-pregnancy -- babies change everything.  I began to view the world through the eyes of a mother, accept my own flaws, and focus my attentions more on others.  Giving.  Sharing my love more freely.  Recognizing that the Gillian on the inside was more capable than I gave her credit for.  My fortieth birthday gave me the gift of peace with myself.  I honestly feel more beautiful now than I did twenty years ago.  It starts with giving yourself permission to just be:  Be happy.  Be strong.  Be healthy.  Be loved.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not letting myself go.  As G-d as my witness, I am going to fight my aging skin and  sagging backside as long as I have breath in my body, but I'm not going against nature to do so.  And, I'm not gonna lie -- some days I miss getting honked at, or having a head turn when I walk down a city street.  But, I don't ever miss feeling like I NEED that validation to feel good about myself.  And you don't either.

♥ Gilly

P.S. My daughter confirms I still get honked at.  Occasionally. :-)