I saw a tweet that made me smile, like ear-to-ear, nodding and then saying “Yes,” out loud, smiling.

See, I have discovered that we all have our days. We all feel ugly, fat, old, or just less-than. Fine, noted, moving on. What good does staying on that side of things get us? Do we get extra points for self-loathing? Is that somehow better than, dare I say it, a little bit of vanity? Can we overlook the soft tummy and maybe comment on the spectacular cheekbones? I mean dig deep, put on a pair of happy shoes and look from toes to sky, avoid the mirror if you must, but for pretty’s sake, find some silver in your lining.

Which brings me to yesterday. Sean had left for a job in Boston and I was alone with the girls. I spent a good deal of time fetching apple juice and then Gatorade, “not the blue kind, the yellow, always the yellow, mom!” Above the sink is a mirror and for the life of me I couldn’t help but titter each time I reached it. Something in my reflection was perfect. I couldn’t figure out if it was my hair, my skin…no clue, but my reflection pleased me. I saw me, really me, grinning into the mirror, people. I did what any sane person would do, I grabbed a camera to preserve it for all time.

After I snapped the first picture I was crestfallen, I didn’t see it. The thing I loved, but couldn’t articulate wasn’t in the picture. Then I got to thinking about how Sean will tell me that I am gorgeous and I’ll look and not see what he does, begging off the compliment for bad hair or sallow skin. Oh, but I knew it was there.

[hand slaps forehead]

Are you having the revelation with me?

It’s there. It’s always there, whether you can see it or not and whether the camera captures it or not. The angle that suits us, the color that complements us, the sparkle that defines us. These moments when we deny its existence because we can’t see it? That’s just lame, but more than that, it’s a gross abuse of the brief time that we have.

If I am having an “ugly day” I sport this furrow.

When Sean tries to make it better, I do this. Attractive, yes?

A bit more cajoling and I do this.

Then he says something like, “What is like carrying around that much gorgeous?” And I do this.

Then we get to this and I wonder why I wasted so much time in believing him, but more than that, why I ever stopped believing in me.

And so, sweet friends, the pearl I have for you (amidst stained shirts, missed deadlines and hang nails) is this—when you focus on nothing but the joy of trusting in your special something, you position yourself as if you are ready to embrace life.

For anyone attending BlogHer this year, what’s say we make a deal? Let’s go with our self-loathing and insecurity left behind. We’ll hit the Big Apple with arms spread wide and smiles on our faces. We’ll hug* and laugh and live the way we are meant to, are you in?

*I give great hugs :)