With one hand I am pushing the grocery cart. Attached to the other hand I am feeding snacks to my three-year-old who is snug in the upper part of the cart. The cart is almost filled I turn towards the long line-up at the cashier. Sighing, I give my iPhone to my daughter in hopes that the movie I put on will keep her happy until we can leave.
I glance around the crowded store. My eyes are seeping in all the magazines that promise the new diet to lose weight. I spy the candy bars right underneath the glossy mags. I am amazed how the merchandising can make us hopeful and then want a sugary treat. Of course it makes me want one. My tired soul needs a pick-me-up so badly.
I take a big breath. I look at my feet. I can’t find my feet. My muffin top is in the way. The most ways to not feel sexy is being tired, wearing old clothes and craving chocolate. I give in too many times to temptation. I rarely wear make-up. I don’t feel the need when all I do is school pick-up and drop-off. I see moms in pjs at school. I would like to feel good again. I have lost and gained many baby pounds. Some of it is due to my thyroid medications. I do not use that as an excuse. It’s just my reality now.
I snake our way down the line. When we are three carts away from our turn, my phone rings. Much to the dismay of my now-screaming three-year-old, I take it from her and see it is my husband. I click on the Talk button and say hello.
He says he just called to say hi and that he loves me. We have a brief chat and hang up. All of a sudden my face feels warm. I find myself smiling. A lust memory of our early dating days makes me feel great. I may be slop on the outside, but inside I see myself through my husband’s eyes. If he sees something in me that I don’t, then I must be all right.
I bypass the chocolate bars and the magazines. Placing my items on the conveyer belt and greeting the cashier, I feel my self-esteem rising. All it took was a compliment from my loved one to see whom they see. Me.