Thanks Little Girl

I was not feeling so hot this morning. I got very little sleep. I have a lingering cold and the blowing my nose and coughing bit is truly getting old. I went to a private Pilates session with my friend who is completing her certification to teach late in the morning. After a disappointing session of realizing my body was just too tired and sore to do much of anything I schlepped myself to the train so I could head to work. I was feeling a little defeated. I have been feeling less than pleased with my body lately. I was tired and sore. The rain, even with my new rain boots, was making me a little cranky and definitely not doing anything for my hair. As I was walking down the stairs I passed a mom with an infant in a snuggly on her chest and a little girl who looked to be 3-years-old attached to her left hand. Just as I passed them I heard the little girl say, “Look at that beautiful lady.” There was a pause. I glanced around as I keep heading down the stairs; there was no one else in the stairway. Then I heard, “Mom, did you hear me? I said look at that beautiful lady.”

That little girl was talking about me. She thought I was beautiful. I felt myself start to soften a little. As my friend had reminded me while we were doing Pilates, one of my New Year’s resolutions is to be kinder to myself. I have been seriously struggling with this one for the last few days. While I was busy beating myself up, feeling anything but beautiful, this little girl stopped my negative thinking dead in its tracks, reminding me that I am more than okay just as I am. Now granted, when I was three I would have thought any adult wearing purple rain boots was pretty awesome, but I will never know if it was the rain boots or simply me this little girl was referring to. And, truth be told, it doesn’t matter. It is easy for me to forget I am beautiful. I am not saying that in a narcissistic or egotistical way, we are all beautiful and I would venture a guess that most of us forget it from time to time. Sometimes it takes a stranger to make us realize the one thing we cannot see, but so desperately need to have brought into our awareness.


About djunapassman

I teach yoga, write, and edit. I live in a Brooklyn neighborhood that is changing faster than I can, or care to, keep up with. Manhattan still beckons me to her island a few subways stops away, reminding me of when I lived amongst her daily hustle and bustle.
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