So I've decided I need to do that with weddings planning. And I've decided that wedding planning needs something stronger than a snugglable reflective moment. It needs a H*ll Yeah! moment. Or, to use a phrase from our house, an "I F*cking Rule" moment. Just imagine cheering "I f*cking rule!" while pointing at yourself and doing a mini victory dance for your wedding accomplishments. Maybe you finally finished making, addressing, and stamping your invitations and getting them in the mail. Maybe you finally told an insistent family member "No" and they finally heard you. Maybe you finally realized that saying "Yes" was a better idea than "No" because the X doesn't really matter to you anyhow, and your soul is now lighter for letting it go. Yeah. You f*cking rule.
And, in taking a cue from the brilliant blog about body image acceptance journeys called Eat The Damn Cake (oh trust me, I do), I'm going to add a weekly "I F*cking Rule" moment about self-image too. In Kate's words, this would be an "unroast, aka something I like about the way I look that day, and why I like it." Because, as she points out, "it’s absolutely absurd that I, or any other woman, should have to waste time feeling unattractive" And yet, somehow weddings in all their absurdity create all sorts of time-wasting obsessions about attractiveness. (Because clearly, that's the important part about a day in which you're publicly committing to your partner for life.) So no more. Because you f*cking rule.
Goodness knows, this wedding cr*p can weigh us down with both stress for the mounting to-dos (that we're all obviously doing "wrong," or at least not "right" enough for someone else) and self-hatred for not being enough. The wedding is a constant slew of not-enoughs: not enough money, not enough weight loss, not enough time, not enough creativity, not enough energy, not enough seats in the venue, and generally just not good enough at all. Well, enough with all that. I f*cking rule and so do you. So let's take a few moments to celebrate it.
Here's why I f*cking rule this week:
- I contacted an important family member to ask for more involvement in the wedding. I think this family member wants it, and I want it, but neither of us were bringing it up. So instead of sitting here wondering, I finally contacted this person to open a dialogue.
- I'm on vacation right now. I'm savoring a real, honest-to-goodness vacation in someplace neither of us have ever been (Oregon). And we're taking an honest-to-goodness vacation from any and all wedding talk during these five days. It is glorious.
- Yes, I have crows feet. Most of you got very upset with me in the comments on Monday for discussing my crows feet by exclaiming "WHAT? You don't have crows feet? Those are smile lines! I don't see what you're talking about. I wouldn't have noticed them if you didn't say anything." And so on. But here's the thing: I like my lines. Call them crows feet or whatever, but they are very clearly lines that mark years of smiles. I didn't mention them on Monday to be self-deprecating, but because they genuinely surprised me. I could swear my skin was smoother last week. And yet, how can I complain? They are my proof of a life well-lived and a life worth living. For those of us who are wary of botox, these sorts of lines are an inevitable part of aging and proof that I've made it here. That I've left behind those challenging years in my 20s and that I'm closer to who I want to be. That I've hopefully learned from a bit too much sun, a few too many late nights, and an unfortunate ex-smoking habit. But they are mostly just proof that I like to smile through it all. And posting my honest, unretouched photo, with my smile lines front and center, was strangely powerful. For someone who hates photos of herself, let alone prominently imperfect photos, this was a big moment in admitting that I can like myself, imperfections and all.