No Really, I love myself...

Self contentment seems to be a foreign concept. I observe coworkers, acquaintances, and passer Byers murmur and complain on a daily basis. I'm too skinny. I'm too fat. I'm so short. I am too tall. I am so lanky. The list of complaints goes on and on and on......

I often wonder if there are such things as being happy with one's self anymore. At work, there are three women who are sickeningly thin. Subject one is C.S. On a good day, if she was soaking wet she might weigh 117 pounds with her clothes, shoes, and fur coat on dripping wet as well. She can be found in the cafeteria frequently obsessing because there is no low fat yogurt.  Then there is my boss S.G. She is 5 feet 11 inches and weighs about 132 pounds. She recently said that she has put on "way too much" weight lately and had put herself on a starvation diet to lose "20 pounds". Then, finally, there is A.G. A.G. wears a size 12 and just can't live with herself.

All of these women make me want to throw up in my mouth.

I listen to them bellow and complain about their weight issues. (I am currently a size 26 by the way.) I listen to them decide what they are going to remove from their diets and how they are going to increase exercise rituals and blah blah blah blah blah blah.

I haven't weighed 1-- anything since I was a teenager. But I digress.

The deeper lesson to be learned is self acceptance. There will always be something about yourself that you can improve. If you keep looking, you will always find some imperfection that you can obsess over. There has to be a point where you come to terms with yourself and accept yourself whether it’s big, small, short, or tall.

All of these women are completely confused as we eat lunch and I am not obsessed with counting calories nor do I care about the fat content of my selections. I only get a chance to live this life one time... and I am going to enjoy every moment of it.

I tell them all the time... My weight doesn't bother me... and I don't bother it.