Hey! I hear you entered your 40s recently and I just know you’re going to love this new decade. It’s not like we’ve ever met each other, but I almost (in a totally not creepy way, promise) feel like I know you just a little bit. Although I was busy with my life and three young children, I observed your career from a distance and kind of grew to admire you as you publicly stumbled through early adulthood. You seem genuine and pleasant, like a good human.
Whether my impression of you as a soul is correct or not, there’s no question that as a physical presence you are very beautiful. Your face has consistently remained naturally attractive and your smile always seems genuine. There were times during your baby making 30s when your naturally curvy body became more rounded, (same, girl) but you always appeared sensual and feminine.
People were unkind to you when you carried more physical weight. Comments were made about your size and comparisons were made to you and the body you had prior to growing those three individual humans. A picture of you in Daisy Dukes and heels was always waved about to illustrate how good you used to look, in contrast to the current state of your body. It was not kind and my heart went out to you during that time.
Speaking of photos, it was a photo that brought my attention to your recent milestone birthday. In the picture you are wearing a throwback pair of distressed jeans from, as you captioned the IG post, 14 years previously. They are a small size, it looks, and you appear very pleased to be able to once again wear them.
I completely get the satisfaction of fitting in clothes that were temporarily unwearable. It’s an accomplishment and the results of sacrifice and hard work on your part. I absolutely applaud that, but, as a woman with a dozen plus years on you, I want to share something with you.
A couple of years ago, I hit a number on the scale that I hadn’t seen in 30 years. I loved the way that number flashed at me from the digital scale I step on each morning in my bathroom. No doubt, I was thin. Well, thinner. I don’t know that I’ll ever perceive myself as thin, necessarily. My skinny clothes were fitting (loosely) and somehow that felt like an accomplishment to celebrate.
Since that time, my weight has swung back up by ten pounds. My clothes fit and I’m healthy, but I’ve been pretty hard on myself at times for not continuing to be at that sub 120 weight. Recently, though, I saw a picture of myself from that time. I was wearing my favorite gaudy necklace, the one that looks like it’s made from pirate booty, and I couldn’t believe how thin I appeared. The necklace of starfish and shiny things looked too heavy for me, my collar bones jutted and my chest revealed visible ribs. It was not a good look. Someone whom I’ve known for twenty years told me that I looked “frail” then.
Me? I’m strong. I run half marathons and trail races, do hot yoga, raise children and work, sometimes multiple jobs. Frail? That’s not who I am, nor who I aspire to be.
I guess, Jessica, what I want to say is this – no matter what you weigh or what your size is, you’re beautiful. You are married and a parent to three gorgeous kids. You are a successful businessperson, published writer and musician. None of those accomplishments have anything to do with what size your jeans are. Don’t spend your forties trying to squeeze into clothing that belongs to a different time of your life. You’ve got too much happiness to enjoy.
PS. Hope you ate a piece of cake and that it was delicious.
DelSo 