I'm An 8

Suits, heels, acrylic nails, makeup and hair flawless, and jewelry. These are all things that could have describe my life before the fire. The fire came and took all of it. A closet full of suits and shoes gone. My own personal store of beauty products smoke-damaged. Was the jewelry salvageable? Maybe, but the memories connected to the fire made me allow my brother to give it away. From then on I learned that I was not my hair, shoes, nails, or personal possessions. Better yet, I learned that I didn’t really like being all that high maintenance. It was fun for awhile, at least until I realized that all of that being high maintenance didn’t fill the empty whole in my heart. The fire came after my divorce and in the midst of a dysfunctional relationship. I thought that because I looked great outwardly it would make up for the fact that I felt incredibly unloved inwardly. That was years ago, and I still feel the traces of being unloved. Only this time I refuse to be something I’m not to attract anyone who isn’t going to love me for who I really am. My stance on being me was confirmed when someone I met told me he thought I was lazy because I didn’t go to a salon and get my hair done and because I didn’t spend a lot of time and money on my hair. Thank God I had the confidence to end the conversation and embrace me, even if for the time being I saw my natural self as being unlovable. Now where does this 8 come from? Is it on a scale of 1 – 10? No. It was a Facebook quiz that asked the question, “How high maintenance are you?” The various scores were 1-20, 21-49, and 50 – 100. I didn’t even score a 20! And I am okay with that. I love the healthy lifestyle that I live, and sweating is a part of it. So no, my hair isn’t done, and I don’t wear acrylic nails anymore. I dance, I laugh, I have fun, and generally enjoy life. If that makes me an 8, I’ll gladly embrace it!