Three years ago, I was a was single, driven career girl, with an even grasp on the corporate ladder and a swing in my step.  I had a new car, a new town home condominium that was spotless with everything had its place. I shopped at Saks, had “mani-pedis “with my gal pals and relished sushi lunches with fabulous friends.  I worked out five times a week for two hours and was getting back into good shape and good health.  Dates included lingering conversations over meals and movies — as well as the occasional candy and flowers.   Give me just a minute to say, “Ahhh.”

Fast forward to today!  To start with, I am now married to a great guy.  On Friday, our little boy will be two years old.  TWO!  One…Two!  Wow, they grow so fast.   Today, I work mostly from home running my consulting business.  My husband quit his job 18 months ago to stay at home with our son  and pursue ministry work.   So, here we are together… with our ball-obsessed dog, Maggie.   Snug as bugs in a rug.  Life is very different in this new place.  Very good, and very different.

As I have chatted and tweeted, laughed and cried with my other, now married gal pals — especially the ones with children — we have come to an agreement over the nature of a few, key changes in our lives.  My dear friend, Ann, encouraged me to share some of our thoughts with you here.

The new sexy: Hubby doing dishes, laundry and then vacuuming

The new “moo-moo” Yoga pants and a hoodie

The new workout: Picking up toys

The new mop: Calling the dog to lick up mess from floor

The new clean: Dishes out of the sink, everything else stuffed in a closet

The new gourmet: Anywhere kids eat free

The new sushi: Peanut Butter and Jelly cut into triangles

The new sleeping in: 8 am = Heaven!

The new Ann Klein: “Finale Clearance” (say this with French accent)

The new splurge: Expensive shampoo and conditioner

The new mani-pedi: Taking a hot, uninterrupted shower

The new good hair day: CLEAN

The new favorite outfit: Anything that FITS

The new dress up: Wearing a bra

The new date night: Staying awake through the END of the movie

The new foreplay: Kicking off the yoga pants

The new gal bonding: Half -completed thoughts uttered in between shouts of “NO, <insert child’s name> No biting!”

The new teething ring: The dog’s ball (builds immunity)

The new promotion: Transitioning from Pampers to Pullups

The new fabulous: Absorbing each new beautiful word my son says

The new sunset: The peace that comes after bedtime

The new romance: Knowing my husband loves me — even in my yoga pants

In short, life is good.  It’s not always easy. It’s often hard work.  I’ve learned to let go of control and my own “standards” and desire for order.  But in doing so, things have developed a curious order of their own.  I have been released into a life I’d only dreamed of.   It’s a life indescribable… and one I call, “The New Happy.” Memories of the old life aside, I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

I recently wrote a post about contrast and how we need it to define things, i.e. we can’t name ‘cold’ if we don’t have ‘hot’ to compare it to. But, now I’m wondering what to do if the contrasting and defining object is a moving target.

Here’s the thing: I don’t know how big I am, or how small for that matter. Literally. I’m shocked by the mirror and the scale. I’m shocked when things are too big and when they’re too small. I’m shocked when I see pictures of myself and I come up to everyone’s chest. I’m shocked when I see my reflection and I seem larger than I expected.

As a result, I don’t trust any of it and I go about my days having no idea what I look like or how my body actually fits into space.

And, really, why should I? This is a case where the contrasting target is moving. AND, this is a case where the physical is heavily influenced by the emotional and intellectual self. For reasons feminine, cultural and uniquely circumstantial, my size and my perception keep changing.

• In high school, I was popular, successful and an athlete. I was larger than life, but my body felt small.
• In college, I was invisible, drowning with an eating disorder and unhappy. I was terribly insignificant, but my body felt huge.
• As I entered adulthood, I was told to be independent and strong, but society and its magazines were reminding me not to get too big. I was confused and yo-yoing, my body didn’t know which way was up.
• As I became a mother, I urged my body to grow in order to support my babies as they came to be and as they continue to need my protection, time and attention in this world. I am expanding rapidly, my body feels like it isn’t my own and its borders are too far away to see.
• As a wife, I need to pull those edges back in to ‘me’ so that I can feel my woman-ness. My body feels conflicted and exhausted and totally bent out of shape.
• As a writer, speaker and blogger in the context of this blog and a few others and in my immediate community, I receive insanely wonderful connections and feedback. My brain and heart feel big.
• As a writer, speaker and blogger in the context of the world and social media, I’m just tiny. Little fish, big sea.

When I look at all of this, I see that the common thread here is relativity. It’s similar to the fact that I still feel 17, but my birth certificate says I’m 36. I mean, really? Is that true? What’s true?

I’m not sure there’s a way to escape it. But, I’m certain I can’t let it color my forward motion. If we sat around all day and thought about the 300 million people on Facebook, we would never join or think it could be a successful social media tool - and we’d miss out on connecting and sharing with old and new friends. If we thought about the millions of other writers that are out there - either getting published or struggling with rejection letters - we would never type another word.

Why do we look to the outside to define our size or simply who we are? Why would we look outside when outside is constantly changing and insecure? Huh. Maybe that’s why we’re so insecure.

Hard to pin your edges on something that moves, expands, shrinks and bends, isn’t it? Maybe it’s the inside - that still thinks it’s 17 and perfectly sizable that needs to be the touchpoint. That way, at least, it’s always up to us, the magnitude of the space we take up in the world.

Originally posted on Writing Roads

Image credit: Steph & Adam