It's Nice to Like Yourself

(The Pictures that follow are in acknowledgement that this post is definitely 100 million times more interesting with pictures. They date from 2001-2002.)

Growing up, my family had a tradition of sharing 100 things we were thankful for (each taking turns until we collectively reached 100) on Thanksgiving. Then I made a list in my journal as I got older and did Thanksgiving away from my family and then I got married and made Patrick do it with me. Last year, the friends we "Thanksgivinged with" humored me and did our 100 things list with us. Looking forward to Thanksgiving generally, thinking about "my list," and watching all the other thankful people posting on Facebook, I have been giving thought to things I'm thankful for. In particular, I have tried to think of original things I'm thankful for-- things that I don't say every year (family, friends, home, school, books, etc.).

One thing that came to mind was that I am thankful for the self image I had growing up.

Now, I have to be honest. I was not the most attractive little rugrat. And I didn't get any introduction to fashion until a friend went shopping with me once in high school. Even then, the only aspect of "fashion" (if we may call it that) that stuck with me is that it is probably more attractive to wear clothes that fit and that are from the girls' section than to wear your brothers' hand-me-downs that are two sizes too big.

And I wasn't the smartest cookie in the box (or whatever the cliche ought to be). I mean, I was in Gifted and Talented, but from an early age it was obvious that almost everybody else in the Gifted and Talented program was probably both more gifted and more talented . . . and had a higher IQ than me to boot.

And I'm definitely not the funniest girl you'll ever meet. I love a good laugh, but I'm usually along for the ride, not the one cracking the jokes.

I'm also not super creative. I have friends who are artists, musicians, actors, quilters, and much, much more. I dabble in writing-- and I like it, but that was pretty much the end of my concrete talents before adulthood. But even that is frequently not a showy talent-- it's a bit private most of the time (especially growing up pre-Internet frenzy).

Now, having said all that, and even knowing all that about myself growing up, I thought I was the best, most amazing little woman. I was full of passionate, idealistic ideas. I had big plans. I thought people were lucky to be my friend (though it wasn't arrogant because I felt equally blessed for every friend I had). Of all the gifts I have ever had in my life, the confidence I had in my youth was probably one of the best things I could ever have asked for but never could have thought of beforehand. It protected me from all sorts of stupid choices. And it made choosing to be happy much, much easier.

I had friends and family members who struggled with their self-images. And I remember that I just couldn't really relate. It was just a little foreign to me. I think because I knew them and loved them and they opened up to me, I could have a sincere compassion for them and a deep sympathy, but I could never pretend that that was a struggle for me.

And for this I have to thank 1.) My parents. My dad is super confident himself and my mom was ALWAYS positive with me about my body and my talents. She never harassed me to look better or lose weight. 2.) God. I think it was really just a gift I was given. 3.) Little Women. I know that one seems funny, but I was thinking about how much I adored Jo and how she was a model for me. For Jo, being the best-looking, most charming person in the room was just never a priority for her. To me, Jo immortalized making the most of yourself and your life by being bold and interesting and unique even if "you" wasn't super showy or super gorgeous (as I always felt was the case for me and Jo). Bless you, Louisa May, for depicting that character so well.