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It’s probably a good thing that I don’t want children. If I had teenagers, I would embarrass the hell out of them.

All of my life, my mom liked to sing in the grocery store. Specifically the checkout line. If I was extra lucky, someone I went to high school with would be the cashier. That was fun.

I remember one specific incident in a crowded department store line on a Saturday, my mom dug through her purse for her checkbook while crooning, “Come seeeee the softer side of Sears!” I quietly leaned in to her and, mortified, I whispered, “Mom, we’re in Mervyns.” She turned to me and announced, “WELL, I DON’T KNOW THE MERVYNS SONG!”
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I went on a walk this afternoon once I got home from work. I couldn’t do the gym two days in a row and quite frankly I’m depressed that I can’t even get through the first day of Couch-to-5K, so I chose to walk briskly through my neighborhood. I chose the day of the week my local beach community has a Farmers Market, which made it difficult to power walk in solitude. I got about 4 blocks from home when I finally realized this and became suddenly self-conscious.

Every girl I noticed that was running was at least three inches taller than me, 80 pounds lighter, and clad in bright shoes and running shorts that showed off their toned and tan legs. I stopped at the nearest corner and looked at myself. My shirt and pants were the sort of grey you wear when you want to be invisible, the kind that covers your thick ankles and the fact that you’re pasty white. I suddenly became very aware that I was wearing a fanny pack. Coupled with that, I wore a shirt that feels great during a workout but further accentuates my VBO (visible belly outline).

I think about my nieces and nephews and wonder if I seem like THAT aunt. The kooky one that has no fashion sense, no filter and has an awkward way about her. She speaks a little too long in conversation sometimes, often to a confusing end. She likes electronics, technology and computers obsessively, is over 40 and not married, no kids, and has a weird lizard for a pet. She’ll tell inappropriate jokes in mixed company and laugh at the wrong times. She’s always taking photos of everyone and everything and prefers to edit them on her phone at social events instead of socializing.

Am I that aunt?

I stood there for a moment and then decided to take a short route home and then I decided that I didn’t care if I was the crazy one in the family.

I can only be what I can be, and if that’s a girl who can only run one block at a time that jiggles when she moves then that’s good enough. It’s exhausting pretending you’re someone you’e not. I’ve always loved me on the inside, it’s probably time I love myself on the outside too. Baby steps, people.

In lieu of a proper walk, I’m trying to psych myself up for yoga on the beach. I’m listening to Eminem’s Lose Yourself and it’s helping a little. In fact, I should go or I’ll be late. I still have my VBO but I decided to leave the fanny pack at home.

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