My hair is always a mess even when I spend half an hour straightening it, I am habitually late, innocently forgetful, I trip over myself-the sidewalk-and anything else in my path, I spill things, and from all of this I have come to terms with the fact that I am a beautiful wreck.
I have coined the phrase "polished" to describe those women that seem to have it all together. They are always on time, dressed to perfection, always accessorised, not a hair out of place. I often despise these women, even more so on particularly spastic days.
It occurred to me the other day though through various conversations I have recently had with good friends and others in passing, that these women I envy for being "polished" often recipricate envy for my seemingly non-chalant attitude. I am not trapped in a mold I have created for myself and the fact that I nearly always throw my hair in a messy bun and show up to work 12 minutes late everyday is seen as my personal freedom.
Another realization: I have noticed on the days that I am not spazzing out and do have it more together than usual I apprear polished to other spastic women and I do not give myself credit for my "polishing!"
These self-acceptance epiphany's are fabulous!
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