That’s what he said, “Deal with it.”

It hit me like a face full of ice water.

“You are better in your sleep than most people are on their best day.”

I tried not to be annoyed, not to roll my eyes and think, “Do you have to deliver the compliments in such an annoyed and obnoxious way?”

He read my mind.

“I can’t figure out a way to say this so that you’ll hear me. It’s exhausting.”

Then I felt like smiling, which pissed me off.

He saw that too.

I cracked wise and we both relaxed a bit. He’s right, but so am I— I realize I didn’t explain to you the basis for all of this, but it doesn’t matter. Trust me. Every so often I veer off course and let insecurities get the better of me. More often than not I recognize them for what they are; stalling tactics or passive aggressive attempts to go around something rather than straight through.

Now I find myself emboldened. I remember talking about a similar thing a while back, I called it a rear view mirror confession. A good friend printed it and sent it to me on my birthday. I’ll never forget that. Thank you, Cindie.

So let’s revisit the idea of acknowledging some things, good and bad.

I am a hand-wringer. Not always, but often enough to know that it could be used in a list of things about me.

I wear short sleeves year-round. My arms are long and my shoulders are broad, my torso is long too, but not so broad. Long sleeves fit me weird and if I’m cold I’ll put on a coat. Deal with it.

I judge inseams. Seriously people, make sure they’re long enough, it doesn’t cost anymore to size up an inch or two.

I break cameras. So help me, but any camera with me, though deeply cherished and revered, has a significantly diminished lifespan. Can’t explain it. I need a new camera. Sob.

I kinda love my body right now. There are hollows and curves that aren’t exactly as I’d like them, but overall, the lines of my face and the planes of my body are dear to me. Rambo shoulders, phlebotomist-wet-dream-veins, muscular calves, big feet and stubborn chin. Mine.

I don’t cook the same thing twice. No recipes, no discipline, just fun.

I am tuning out and going to hang with my kids. I beat myself up for this, never truly unplugging. But I am. Now. Deal.

Can you tell people to deal with it?

Can you?

Do it.