Subtlety much?

I was feeling down on myself today. My hair wasn't doing what it was supposed to, or my face was broken out, or my clothes didn't fit the way I would like them too, or my cramps have returned in force, or I don't exercise the way I should, or I don't eat as I ought. Or whatever it was today.

And I was getting into that very negative spiral of comparing myself to people I admire (envy?), saying I wish I were as together as Friend A, or as empathetic as Friend B, or as cool as Friend C. I wish I were more like my sister in this way, more like my husband in that way, more like all these women in my SELF magazine.

And I was feeling down because I didn't measure up.

But, trying to make the best of a quiet, lazy, sunny Sunday afternoon, I put on my shorts and my tank top, and hid my shame at my blubbery whiteness behind a pair of sunglasses and headed to the apartment complex pool to soak up some sun, and there weren't too many beautiful people there, so I stayed. I lay on my back, reading my book for a while, and then I flipped over, facing the pool, to get some sun on my back.

That's when a man and his wife came through the gate. And I thought to myself, "How brave they are, a middle aged couple, not caring about the beautiful bikini-clad people, intent on enjoying some--"

And that is when I realized that the man had two prosthetic legs.

I suddenly had a whole new concept of brave as I circumspectly watched him unstrap his prostheses, climb down off his chair onto his knees, and crawl over to the edge of the pool where he laughed with his wife about how cold the water was before diving right in.

He wasn't physically fit, or any great body beautiful. He wasn't ashamed, either. He was laughing with another man sunbathing by the pool's edge, enjoying the sun and the water and his ability to move unfettered in it.

And I started to cry just a little bit. Because I was worried about being too pale, or 15 pounds overweight, or about having a little acne.

Yeah. OK, universe. I get it.