Sitting around not doing much of nothing gives me so much time to think.
When I'm home running around like a chicken without a head (with my class this year I have to be ON all the time, there is A LOT to manage: low readers, bad behaviours, lazy kids and just plain dumbness) I don't have time to think too deeply. And when I get home I'm too exhausted to think about much.
As I lie under my palapa covered in a beach cover-up and wearing a tankini, I wish I was braver.
There are many women at my resort that are proudly wearing bikinis (that really shouldn't be), but who don't care about what others think.
Regardless of all the working out, running and yoga that I do, I never feel confident enough to wear anything remotely revealing on the beach.
Who do I have to blame?
My crazy mother?
But really, it's mostly me.
As I ran on the treadmill this morning all I could think of was how much more I could do, not what I was actually accomplishing.
Honesty, I am such a head case.
I wish I could be prouder of my body.
Scars and all.
Little dimples of cellulite included.
I've spent almost ten years of my life trying to get it to do something that it just can't. I wish I could accept all of my body's faults.
And maybe even forgive it.