July 27

The forecast called for a 100-degree day (and, in fact, delivered on that promise), so we headed off to the Sports Park in the morning so the boys could burn off some energy. While they batted and threw on a vacant diamond, I popped in my headphones and hoofed it around the loop.

At one point, I glanced down at the pavement and saw my shadow. And much to my surprise, I didn't hate it.

I guess that sounds kind of strange, but I've historically had a tolerate/hate relationship with my appearance. I'm especially attuned to my laundry list of imperfections: the bumpy nose that's probably been fractured at least once by the flailing arms of children best left unnamed, the extra pockets of fluff in my thighs that just won't go away, the distinct absence of muscle tone in my arms that persists no matter how many weights I lift, the virtually non-existent eyebrows, and the eyes that --though I think are a pleasant enough shade of not-quite-green-- are probably a shade too small for my face.

But this morning, I looked down at my shadow and --for once-- felt at peace over what I saw. So for that bit of unexpected self-acceptance (and for a very pleasant morning stroll), I'm grateful.