My belly

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The other day I was standing in front of William as he was sitting, facing me, on the bed. "Mommy," he said, putting his hands on both sides of my belly, "your belly is amazing." He was smiling and looked totally blissed out.

"Mommy's trying to make her belly smaller." It was a reflex reaction. Something I think about every time I put food in my mouth or look at a menu.

"NO, no, no, no, no, no, no mommy!!!!" He cried. "Mommy, it is amazing! I love your belly." Then he lifted up my shirt and kissed it.

How often do we stand in front of the mirror tearing ourselves apart. How often do we think I'm too fat, have too much acne, I hate my wrinkles, if only . . Our spouses tell us that they love us no matter what - but they know that they have to say that, so our thoughts go, so it doesn't really count. Our teenagers tell us that we look wonderful when we are dressed up, but they don't want to hurt our feelings, do they? But a four-year-old's thoughts are pure. They haven't learned what they are supposed to say, they just say what they feel. What William taught me is that while I may be unhappy with some superficial thing, those around me, those that love me, they love me for me, belly and all.

Ephemeral

-adjective

1. lasting a very short time; short-lived; transitory

2. lasting but one day

The ephemeral nature of things; the transitory.

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:: A candle flickering flame

:: That whisper of perfume as she passes you

:: Those first blushes of love, so all-encompassing and consuming

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:: The lily, the spiderwort, the iris, the violet

:: The pinks and purples streaking across the twilight sky

:: A spoken word; there, and then gone

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:: That cloudy sailboat, or hippo, or castle in the sky

:: Waves that ebb and flow, and the footprints they wash away

:: That perfect snowflake; crystals formed by God's hand, melting away as they hit the earth

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Beauty

As you know, I've been thinking a lot about beauty lately. I've read Vogue magazine since I was 16 (and I lurve it passionately); it's always been a given for me that there are "beautiful people" and then there are mere mortals and really, that's okay with me. I've always seen beauty as something more internal than external. I'm not going to tell you that I don't have those girls moments when I wish I had Giselle's body, quite the contrary; I've just always worked to believe that I'm beautiful in my own way.

Times that I feel beautiful:

When Tim looks at me like he's never seen anything more breathtaking than me.

When William touches my cheek with his little hand, giving me a look like he's never seen anything quite like my face, and says, "Mommy, you eautiful."

When I just wake up from a really nice dream and I'm still in that dreamy haze.

When I know that I've done something good or selfless for someone else.

While singing praises, and that totally indescribable transcendence falls over me.

There are other times, and as I am writing this, I'm getting the idea that I should start a beauty journal, not just of my beauty moments but of those I see around me. There is so much beauty in this world, and if we look for it, the decay and sadness around us doesn't seem so overwhelming. A photographic exercise that I find myself doing a lot is going to a place that from far away seems to have no inherent beauty (a dirty shoreline, an overgrown, grey thicket, a crumbling building) and find and photograph the beauty there. I never know what I will find, and sometimes I have to look pretty hard, but I always find something. Beauty is everywhere if you just take the time to look for it.

When do you feel beautiful?

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I am firing my mirror. It really should learn how to lie.

So when you look at the picture above and then read the article below, remember that pictures can be manipulated and really great imaging software and filters exist. And I own them.

Lately I have not been loving mirrors. When I don't look in them I feel pretty good; I go about my life doing my mommy things, living life, and sometimes feeling, well, pretty bored. This is when I start to remember silly things that happened in medical school or high school and they don't seem like they happened that long ago. In fact, I often find, myself thinking, "I'm almost 40. How did that happen?"

Time is funny like that. It creeps up on you. In my head I really haven't aged at all through the years. My thoughts may be more mature and I may do the things that adults do every day, i have kids and a house and responsibilities and all of those grown up type things, but it feels like nothing internally really has changed as the years have gone by, save a few new aches and pains.

Then a mirror creeps up on me. I'll have to go to the bathroom, and there it is. Or I'll be shopping for underwear or cat food, minding my own business, go around the corner, and there one will be, assaulting me with its presence. First thing in the morning, it can be so shocking as to completely wake me up. I have nothing against growing older, I just don't like what it's doing to that previously young woman in the mirror.

Her skin isn't as bright as it used to be and she has age spots on her cheek. There are crow's feet at the corners of her eyes and a furrow as deep as the Grand Canyon between her eyebrows. Her hair isn't as full, her eyes are starting to look tired. That woman in the mirror is starting to look old.

It's not an easy thing to come to terms with. I am really starting to understand why plastic surgeons and dermatologists are so busy. I've found myself looking at skin creams, at a loss for what to buy to get back that glow, and pretty amazed at the prices. And knowing that if I had the money to spare, I'd definitely have a medicine chest full of them.

It's not like this all happened overnight, one night I went to bed looking like a dewy skinned 22-year-old, and the next morning I looked in the morning a withered crone, but it's just been more evident lately. I've spent a lot of time trying to wrap my head around the fact that when I try to talk about my childhood with William he can't even comprehend that I was ever little. Or young. Or even a teenager like sissy. I'm old in his eyes.

I am getting older. I know that you are only as old as you feel, and I don't feel old, but the mirrors tell me otherwise. How do you get through those initial days of disbelief, quit obsessing about it, and just get on with your life?

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