SO on top of warm fuzzies and pissed off workouts, Friday was a day of self-acceptance. My husband and I went to dinner after my workout, hair pulled-back, jeans, flip-flops, the works! This is my normal comfort zone. When we arrived at cheat meal destination, a higher end restaurant, also a typical hangout for the groupies, my insecurities and reasons for ever hiding myself in the first place were confronted. Ahhhhhh… I knew it’d raise its ugly head again sooner or later.

I really wasn’t too concerned that we were out on a Friday night bumming, as I like to call it. I deserved the right to bum; I just busted my tail and this was my reward. We had a 45 min. wait before we could be seated so we used that time to talk and enjoy some people watching – yes, I can be bad like that.

We saw all different dress attire, casual, formal, trendy, tacky, and even bummy. I didn’t feel so bad, besides I really didn’t care, right? Yeah, that’s what I kept telling myself.

We finally got seated and so I made my way to the restroom. It was perfect timing because right after I got there, there was a mad rush, kind of scary. While waiting in line, 3rd in line (I was the lucky one), I couldn’t help but examine the other women. As they waited in line they kept glancing in the mirror to primp their hair or adjust their dresses. Their toe nails perfectly manicured and nothing seemed to be out of place with them. I’m only imagining what they could be thinking about me, in my flip-flops and naked toe nails. As I stood there I wondered why I can’t accept I’ve never been one of “those” girls. It’s obvious I will never be, and my soul has no desire. But yet, I still feel as though I don’t fit in.

Finally getting my turn to relieve myself, I wash my hands feeling the calluses, the fruits of my labor, and remember who it is I AM. I fought with really accepting myself at this point, and was irritated by the fact that I was fighting at all.

It was almost surreal how the number of women multiplied so quickly and they all looked like they spent quite a deal of time on themselves, perfecting themselves. I didn’t see another one of me in the bunch. I swear to you, there were at least 15 women in line. The feelings of not fitting in were way too much to ignore or push back at this point. All of a sudden, my hard work and accomplishments were void because I didn’t FIT in. What’s THAT about!?

When I arrived back at our table my husband asked what was wrong. I told him I don’t fit in with these people and I felt I should. He told me quite bluntly, “Screw that! This is why I fell in love with you. Because you are different, you are not like them.” I need to be ME and remember it’s completely okay to be me. Why do I feel I have to fit in with a certain stereotypical group? I’m accepted by many, I don’t have to be accepted by all. And really….. the only thing that really matters is that I’m accepted by ME.

It shows this journey is so much more than just simple. It’s complex, deep and everlasting. There is no end. To end would mean we are perfect or have given up on ourselves. To be perfect is impossible and to give up on ourselves shouldn’t even be an option.