The day ahead is a difficult one and I wake up grumpy. The monster's running wild inside of me, insecure and tired.
I have lunch with all the other equity partners in my group. Most of them had known the 22 years old me. I want them to know that I am the same person - I may be 45 pounds heavier, but I'm still me.
The simple fact I want them to understand this tells me how insecure I am.
I end up opting for a long white strapless dress that is completely okay for drinks on the beach and that is quite out of place in an office. Ironically, this cheers me up just a tiny bit because I will manage to achieve what I want: it doesn't matter that we have aged, I'm still the same person. And if you continue to judge me because I'm not wearing a bra, fine.
I walk towards the office in my flowing dress and sandals, and while I cross the park the sun is right in my face. I squint and look at two bunnies I must have scared, as they sprint away in the grass. I squint some more and the tall man jogging in my direction is my husband. The light is so blinding I squint some more as he approaches.
He stops to quickly drop a kiss on my lips, he's sweated and barely touches me, but I'm in plain sun and his smile when he looks at me tells me everything I need to know.
I resume my walk towards the office, conscious that I'll try to keep cherishing this moment through the day and to hold on to it through the difficult hours ahead.
2 comments:
As much as we want to be the same person, we never truly are. Sounds like you are a better version of that person. I understand being insecure. Lucky are those who are able to fake it so well.
I'm certainly an older version, and I dare hope a tad wiser.
But I'm so desperately fatter and uglier I sometimes want to tear at my own skin.
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