Today, I love myself. Yesterday, I hated myself. The day before, I can’t really remember.
This seems to be my mantra.
Each day I wake up, plow from the bed onto my sleep-drunken feet, and sludge my way to the bathroom mirror.
Some mornings, the eyes that stare back at me are kind in their approach. Some days they are not. Some mornings, I see a man who can’t do it today. Sometimes I see a man that can climb whatever mountain is placed in front of me.
Some mornings, I’m so disgustingly obese. My rolls and imperfections scream at me, begging me to do something drastic to get rid of them. Other mornings, I see little wrong with me at all. I am so slender and so strong.
Some days I see my giant nose, my crooked teeth, or my gaping pores, and I think, damn. You disgusting excuse for a human being. Nobody will want you. Other mornings, I see my full head of hair, my thin face, and my blue eyes and I think, damn. You really are a good looking man. Ladies, watch out.
Some mornings, I remember something I did the day or evening before, and I permit myself to think that I’m a good human being for a moment. Other days, I remember something I did the day or evening before, and I cringe as I wait for Satan’s hands to reach from oblivion and drag me away to some place I say I don’t believe in.
And, each morning, I somehow survive my experience in front of the mirror, I garb myself with designer clothes that will do their job to either make me feel more sexy or help me feel less hideous, and I step out my front door and stare straight into the face of seven billion people.
And today, my eyes will say I love you. Yesterday, they declared that I hated you. The day before, I can’t really remember.
Some mornings, the eyes that stare at you are kind. Some days they are not.
Some mornings, I step outside and I see a world full of crooks. Lying, deceitful, dishonest pilfers. Other mornings I step outside and I see a world full of beautiful, trustworthy, incredible people.
Some mornings, I walk down the street and I see fat people. I see ugly people. I see strange people. I see stupid people. I see people who aren’t worth my time, energy, or attention. Other mornings, I walk down the street and I see beautiful people who I would do just about anything for.
And at some point, almost every day, I end up asking myself… why is today different than yesterday? And each day, I think I find a new answer to hang my hat on, even though the answer is always so different than whatever I previously came up with.
What’s not different, and from day to day is almost never different, is me.
I look more or less the same, every single day. The people around me look more or less the same, every single day.
And yet some days there isn’t a droplet of love to be seen hovering over any part of my life.
Other days love comes so easily that I feel as if I am drowning pleasantly beneath it.
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