Self Acceptance Revolution

Well, it finally happened.

Honestly, I've wondered how long it would take. As a kid I remember watching certain moms and thinking,"That's pretty weird, but whatever."

I'm referring to the moms in bathing suits. Not at the pool, just at home, or getting gas, or mowing the front yard. I've become one of those.

The transition started a couple of years ago when I was behind on laundry. Land's End makes a super cute bathing top and it was pretty great to wear while mowing the grass.

A couple of days ago the boys and I went to the lake with Dad and I just couldn't be bothered. I wore my bathing suit for the hour-plus drive it takes to get there.

"Mom, what if people are in their cars and they see you in ours and they know you're wearing a bathing suit?" Liam asked me. I could tell he was truly concerned for the other people.

"Then they'll know I'm wearing a bathing suit and wish that they were going to the lake, too," I told him.

Part of it was self-preservation. The effort it takes to change from my clothes into a bathing suit feels herculean. Add a changing room that is 98 degrees, a torn shower curtain for a door, spiders who want to actually eat me instead of the moth they've trapped, and you've got a recipe for disaster.

I have apparently reached the age wherein I don't give an actual crap what other people think. It's quite lovely, really.

It's not new, but the older I get the more in touch with my child-like self I feel. Remember when you were a kid and it was just normal to wear a bathing suit everywhere in the summer? Or maybe it was your pajamas or your gymnastic leotard or your dance outfit.

There was an outfit that made you feel like you.

My bathing suit feels that way to me. I really like wearing my bathing suit with my sneakers. That's when I feel like bike riding or running in the sprinkler, or both. I love the feeling of my legs being free.

When I'm wearing my bathing suit I don't feel the weight of my gray hair, or notice my varicose veins, or wonder what other people think of me. Instead, I get the urge to start a game of kickball or eat watermelon on the front porch.

Avoiding shoulds and have-to's in my life is a goal, but recognizing them is important, too. We 'should' people of all ages: she shouldn't wear that at her age, he shouldn't be doing that at his age.

Leaving behind expectation set by who-cares-who leaves a person free to wear what they want when they want. Once we give ourselves that gift it's much easier to stop criticizing other people, even if was only ever in our heads.

An indicator of shoulds or have-to's in your own life is if you do it to other people. Something as simple as driving past a someone mowing their yard in, say, their bathing suit and thinking, "Who wears a bathing suit to mow?" is a pretty good indicator that you do that to yourself.

Shoulds and have-to's slow you down from living the life that you're meant to live. The way we think directly contributes to our mental health, and should thinking leads to the rabbit hole of anxiety.

That's not the life God has for us. Walking around in my bathing suit doesn't signify that my body is in the best shape it could be. Rather, it signifies acceptance; acceptance of the current state of how my body looks, which is exactly what God wants.

In my bathing suit, or in a business suit, or in my birthday suit, I am loved and accepted by an all-loving, all-knowing God.

Sometimes I find myself wishing it hadn't taken me so long to get here, to this lovely place of self acceptance. Then I remember that every step I've taken in my life was leading me to this point. Wishing for things to be different is just a should of another name. And, when I was in my 20's I thought that I did accept myself.

Changing what I couldn't know is an impossible dream that is just plain silly to waste time on. But here, today, getting to wear my bathing suit while I mow the yard, is not a bad way to get the party started. Forty-five seems as good a time as ever to embrace who I am and how I look.

It's not always easy, but it does get easier.

My Self Acceptance Revolution may have started late, but when it did it was in high gear. It was around four years ago, and a friend was picking up some supplements from a provider/friend/health nut. She introduced me to her friend, who for some reason thought the appropriate response to meeting me was to say, "We're having a weight loss contest this month!"

For about 20 seconds I took her tall, lean figure in. Her perky, high pony tail and lovely smile felt counterfeit after her stabbing words. I'm sure I smiled back as I said no thanks, because it was the beginning of my revolution, but inside I was mad.

Like, really mad.

I told my friend I'd be next door at Kroger while she finished things up.

In the past, before my Self Acceptance Revolution, my immediate feelings would have been shame and self-directed anger. I probably would have cried later, when I was alone, as I replayed the conversation. What I knew in that moment was that I wasn't the one with the problem; this woman had a self-acceptance issue she was putting off on me (and likely every other overweight person who walked in).

When you're unhappy with yourself it's way easier to be critical of others, even in the name of 'helping'.

Until I began writing this I didn't think of that moment as the beginning of my Self Acceptance Revolution (SAR), but it was. Now, a few years into my SAR, in a similar situation my response would go one of two ways: I'd other hug her and tell her she'd be okay one day, or flip her off.

It could go either way these days.

And you know what? That's okay, too.

Be brave, misfits! Enjoy a self acceptance revolution of your own!

I'd love to hear what childhood outfit made you feel like you - share here in the comments or on Facebook.

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A Dog's Attitude

I have the best dog in the world.

Every dog owner says that. But seriously, I do.Pumpkin Pie Shepherd is the apple of my eye. I saw her when we were leaving Pet Smart one late summer day 9 years ago. Her sweet brown puppy eyes found mine and I knew I wanted her.

I had the four kids with me, and we talked with the woman fostering her for a bit. I already knew that I wanted to name her Pumpkin because of her orangey-tan coat. I thought she'd be great for our dog, Pippin, who had always enjoyed other dogs.

But there was the money and logistics of the situation. Our youngest was barely ten months old and I'd always emphatically said no babies and puppies at the same time. Still, I told Lee about her when we got home, laughing at my ridiculous love of animals.

Then I laid down with baby Liam to take a short afternoon nap.

The creak of our bedroom door opening woke me and I rolled over to see who it was. Lee was holding that little puppy at my face. She was crying and whining and desperate to get to me, because she knew she was mine.

Having a puppy and a baby was just as crazy as I thought it would be. Liam spent more time in her crate than Pumpkin did. They both peed by the back door. Also, Liam ate dog food pretty regularly.

We joke that Liam thought he was a puppy, too.

Crate training and obedience school were family activities. Pippin mostly loved her new doggie sibling. It was really a pretty smooth transition.

Pumpkin did wreak puppy havoc, as all good dogs do. She chewed up the cushion to our love seat, chair legs and the crotch out of everyone's underwear.

One morning a bleary-eyed Lee came stumbling out of our bedroom and got himself a cup of coffee. He sat on the (still intact) loveseat as he waited for the caffeinated elixir to kick in. One of the kids stared at him in horror and then laughed and pointed and called the siblings in.

My darling husband sat confusedly looking around, smiling like he was in on the joke. I told him his boxers were crotchless thanks to Pumpkin. He told us that wasn't possible.

Then he felt his mistake. "I wondered why I felt so breezy yesterday!"

To me, life lived with animals is better.

Their eyes, their noses, their paws and their intuition are captivating. Animal behavior fascinates me and I've watched more animal documentaries than should be allowed.

Pumpkin is the kind of dog that's easy to be with. Though, she does have the terrible habit of nudging your hand with her cold, wet nose for more pets. There is never enough ear scratching for her.

Spencer, 6, and Pumpkin, back when they were both tiny.

A few weeks ago I noticed that she was drinking more water than usual. Then she had an accident in the night. I also thought she looked thinner, like way thinner.

Hoping it was a bladder infection I took her in to our vet, who I think knew immediately what was wrong with her. Her blood sugar was dangerously high. We weren't in a place financially to do lots of testing so I learned how to give her insulin shots and headed home.

Things were looking better when she got pancreatitis just ten days later. I've never seen an animal in that kind of pain before. I stayed up through the night with her before taking her to an emergency vet.

Again, we weren't in a position to pay the $5K to hospitalize and monitor her glucose and urine, and administer I.V. antibiotics. So we brought her home with what we could afford and hoped that things would work out.

Pumpkin was so weak I had to carry her out to go to the bathroom. I brought her water and pain meds every two hours through the night. I also hoped that if she died it would be quietly in her sleep. We had to have a dog euthanized after she was hit by a car and it was The Worst.

Slowly, Pumpkin got better with a diet of boiled chicken and rice, plus two insulin shots a day.

The list of things I said I'd never do to/for a pet was slowly turning into 'things I'm completely willing to do for my animal.'

There's something that happened when I realized that making her life easier, and last longer, wouldn't take much of a sacrifice from me. Suddenly doing things that had seemed impossible became a normal routine. The insulin isn't very expensive, and she likes getting the shots because she gets a bite of chicken afterwards.

About a week after her horrible pancreatitis she started running a fever again. I assumed the end was upon us.

More antibiotics and more painkillers, a bag of fluids and a lot of rest were prescribed. But we also knew this could be the end. Her little body just wasn't dealing with the diabetes well and the vet said she was in ketoacidosis.

The boys and I decided to give her the best week ever since it appeared to be her last.

Car rides, trips to the park, belly rubs. The amazing thing is she just kept getting better.

Pumpkin is thin, yes, but probably her goal weight. Her diabetes explains why she stayed heavy no matter how little we fed her.

I believe the difference was us. When we relaxed and made the decision to make life as good as possible for her, Pumpkin did, too. When she was the sickest and we were the most fretful, she was too. There's research out there that backs up my theory, as well as anecdotal evidence.

During her sickest moments, I was struck by her will to survive, but also her will to keep doing what she loved. Hearing me move her leash and harness prompted Pumpkin to attempt to get up, or at the very least wag her tail.

This got me thinking:

Even when I'm having a bad day, I can still do what I love. Also, I can choose to love what I need to do. Going on walks, making the appointments, dealing with insurance, figuring out what to feed the people; I can choose to love it, or at least do more than endure it.

I can have a good dog's attitude about life. It will wear off on the people around me. If I can't muster the strength to shift my mindset that tells me it's time for a nap, or at the very least some time with my headphones and calming music.

Be brave misfits, and love what you need to do.