L loves S

Even though it was 9 o'clock in the morning, it felt Very Early.  I did everything I possibly could before getting dressed.  I ate a bowl of Cheerios. I fed the dogs.  I checked my email.  And then, I could put it off no longer.  We were leaving for the beach at 9:30, and my clock read 27 minutes after.

For the first time in almost 10 months, it was time to put on my swimsuit.  

Bah.

That's right. Bah.

Ready to toss on my cover-up, I glanced in the mirror to make sure nothing was sticking out in weird places or had mysteriously gotten lumpier or yickier or flatter or rounder over the winter.

In passing, I thought, "Hey, this looks kind of good."  It's a cute swimsuit, if I do say so myself.  It is a fire engine red one piece with a halter top, a gathered waist and wide bottoms- just like the 50's.

And I almost wanted to deny it.  "This does not look good."  In fact, I almost felt weird for thinking it did.  I'm not saying I walk around thinking I look terrible all the time.

I'm just saying I worry about what the world is teaching us.  You know, The Things We Don't Realize.

I'm not knocking reality t.v.  I'm not. Really.  That is not a battle I'm willing to fight.

I like my Clean House and my Hoarders and my America's Best Dance Crew just as much as the next guy.

I just wonder if shows like American Idol, America's Next Top Model and The Bachelor are teaching us that we have to fit into an extreme.

We're either Amazing or we're terrible.

We're either Gorgeous or homely.

We're either "pretty" and worth fighting for or "pretty" and bat-bleep-crazy.

Example A.  I'm assuming this girl didn't "win."

                                                                             source

Can't we just be in the middle?  Really?  It sounds strange, doesn't it?  Or better yet, can't we just be in the middle- yet fill our lives with people who make us FEEL like we aren't?  Can't we be their Carrie Underwood or their Tyra Banks or their whatever-girl-has-gotten-the-last-rose-on-The Bachelor?

Yes.  I'm saying yes.  Yes we can.  I pray that's true in my own life, I pray I'm that kind of woman for Tim, and I'll pray that same prayer for you, if you'd like.

Tonight, on our way out the door, I told Tim, "There simply aren't enough pictures of just the two of us."

Without missing a beat, he assumed the position like all good husbands do.

Click-snap.

Upon inspection...

"It looks good." I replied.

And you know what?  It did.

So, here we are.

My Luke Skywalker.

His Scarlett Johansson.

Love and there are about 1,000 images on Google for "Girl crying on The Bachelor." It's just sad. Really.

H.

Linking up with Casey.