For the first time ever, I felt comfortable in my own skin.
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I realized that I allowed the pain in my past to stop me from trying something fun.
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If my own fickle heart of flesh moves when my daughter dances, then surely, God delights when I flourish in my talents.
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Our clothes can dictate, to a degree, how we perform.
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Maybe I couldn’t settle on the perfect outfit because I was trying too hard to be seen as beautiful by the world’s standards.
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As a daughter of the King, what are the expectations of how I am to dress and present myself each day?
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I remember in my young adult life of choosing my clothing according to a label that promoted the latest trend in fashion, only to discover the trend failed to be the right fit” for me.
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This would be a marathon of dietary adjustments. No magic pill or quick fixes; no cold-turkey quitting for this girl!
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When I limped back into my condominium I felt old, weak, and out of shape. I was frustrated and disappointed that my health goals were derailed. The injury gave me all sorts of feels that were lies.
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Those posts of fit and happy women have, at times, caused me to second guess my health routine. Maybe my evening walk just wasn’t enough?
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