Sexy, Accomplished, Vulnerable, Strong, Beautiful, and Loved.
In leggings and a sports bra. Right after yoga, pudge and abs all in one. NamaSlay. Walking around my clean apartment and watering the plant babies. Taking care of business. Messy hair. Golden, lathered in manoi oil and SPF with beads of water on my décolletage. Bikini string tanlines. Drinking champagne and eating a fatty, oily, cheesy, carby pizza poolside. Feeling the grooves of my stretch marks. Closing my eyes as I dance. Pedicured toes in strappy stilettos as I tie them up my leg. Second day old hair. Stirring an extra dirty martini with three olives. Calling out plays during a game. Knowing the answer to Jeopardy questions. A witty ass come back. That is when I feel the most sexy.
Meditating in the morning. Making a healthy breakfast. Crossing things off my list. Jumping into water. Looking down from the top of a hill. Looking back at the end of a journey. Looking forward when I'm feeling stuck. Not letting the noise get to me. Focusing. Imperfect, even messy days that I handle my best. Watching things and people bloom in my presence. Making myself uncomfortable. Feeling unbothered. Loving myself out of a panic attack. That is when I feel most accomplished.
Buying myself flowers. Crying in the shower. That first morning stretch. Making eye contact. Saying "I love you" even when you're angry. Half awake kisses when he leaves before I do. Sleeping in. Talking about my daydreams. Conversations about healing. Triggers. Putting together furniture. Cooking a 2-person dinner for 1. The Sunday Sads and Scaries. Deep breaths and thumping heartbeats. Having the unpopular opinion. Self-awareness. Taking accountability. Forgiving myself. Closing my eyes and imagining someone who did me wrong at their happiest. That is when I feel the most vulnerable, that is when I feel the most strength.
A hearty laugh that turns into a smokers whisper. A cackle that turns into tears. Stomach clutches and the good kind of tummy aches. When I'm making my friends laugh. When I am being called a good friend. Thoughtful. Sweet. Kind. Saying "Good morning" to a stranger. Buying local made honey from the man on the corner. Bare face and tired while repeating affirmations in the mirror. But still smiling. Still breathing. Still grateful. That is when I feel the most beautiful.
Helping people. Hugs from my god kids, nieces and nephews. My mom attempting to understand my depression. Random texts just to let me know I was on their mind. Cooking and cleaning for me. Hearing "Thank-you" when I didn't even know I was helping. Contributing to someone feeling less alone. Having a puppy jump on me. Stolen moments. Pushing my hair away from my face. Holding me tight. Not running away from the unlovable parts of me. Support. Letting me pick what to watch. Growing with me. Being the best version of yourself and sharing that person with me. That is when I feel the most loved.