The Undefined Woman

Day 39 :: LabeledI don’t know about you, but my daily list of things to do does not include trips to the spa, a personal trainer, or my local nail salon—not that there’s anything wrong with any of that—I’m a simple woman.

I love wearing a comfortable pair of jeans/slacks, a nice top, and a great smile. That’s how I make my mark on the world—physically—everyday.

I’ve never bothered with make-up much, don’t care much for heels, and probably know more about football than fashion, but  that’s the me I’m happy to be.

The me who has stopped being overly concerned with any suggestion that I’m not “feminine” enough simply because I don’t fit into a certain idea of what a woman is “supposed” to be. 

Let me tell you this, despite what you’ve been told, being a woman has nothing to do with the clothes you wear, the bag you carry, or the face you put on in the morning. Those are merely the things that please the eyes of those around you and make you feel good about yourself when you step out your front door every day.

None of those things mean a hill of beans where peace of mind, heart and spirit are concerned.

You should be able to remove all of the material comforts that people associate with you, and still know who you are, what makes you tick, and what you stand for.

Any woman can buy a pretty piece of clothing and wear the devil out of it, but not many have the courage to say ‘this is me, love me or hate me, but this is me’ once stripped bare of all the glitz—can you?

When you wake up in the morning you are already beautiful, tussled hair and all. All the stuff that accompanies you out your front door—the bag, the make-up, the shoes—are just the cherries on top of an already perfectly iced cake.

Don’t ever forget that.

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