Okay, this is weird. I tried to upload a picture of my dishcloth last night, and couldn’t. Then I tried this morning after knitting day 4 and couldn’t. So then I consulted the help files (if all else fails, look for instructions LOL). I found a tip that said try using Firefox. So I did, but the picture showed up as a little square that you clicked on to look at it. So I decided to delete it, and switched back to IE. And low and behold, here is my picture! I don’t understand, but I’m glad it worked somehow. Oh well, I finished day 4, and here it is. I really like it! I decided to cut the yellow out of my variegated yarn, so I’m having to weave in lots of ends, but I think the result will be worth it.
While I was stitching, my brain went on one of its rambles. I was thinking about a friend at work, an older lady, who has a younger man VERY interested in her. He flirts with her all the time, and I think he would like to ask her out. But she is not very encouraging to him, to say the least. :o)
We were talking about it, and she shared her feelings, that she just can’t imagine a younger man being interested in an older women because, well, because time takes its toll on all of us. You know, parts answer the call of gravity, things don’t work as well as they used to, bodily functions don’t listen to our instructions like before. I totally understand where she is coming from. If I lost Mark for whatever reason, I don’t think I would want another intimate relationship, mainly because I couldn’t imagine being intimate with a stranger. Mark and I have been together since I was 17, and he knows me so well, physically and emotionally. I would be embarrassed, I think, to be intimate with someone else.
Why do we have those insecurities about our bodies? Men don’t seem to have those insecurities, although time ravages their bodies just like ours. They don’t hesitate to accept the attention of a younger women. But all we can think about are our saggy boobs, our big butt, our stretch marks, and so on, and we can’t imagine being attractive to a younger man. That is so sad, what we women do to ourselves. I wish I could scatter magical fairy dust over all of us, and give us all the gift of self love. I think self love is the hardest love of all to win. I know I’m still working on it. I didn’t have it when I was a teenager with a good body, and I certainly don’t have it now that I am 44 with a soft, saggy body. I’m always thinking, if I lose weight, if I exercise and firm up, I will be attractive, I will feel better about myself. But deep inside I know better. Unless I can love myself now, I won’t love myself even if I were to lose weight. I would find something else that needed changing before I could be happy with myself. I wish I knew how to fix my self-image problem. But all I can do is keep on trying to accept and love myself.