Vanity

I would argue that we all have some, somewhere, about something. It's pretty hard to escape altogether, no matter how hard a person tries.

I consider myself low-maintenance in the vanity department; I could wear T-shirts and lounge pants for the rest of my life and be content. I wear makeup less and less the older I get. But.

If I know there will be pictures taken, or if I'm meeting someone for the first time, I usually wear it. I keep dyeing my hair. I Photoshop my acne out of pictures before I post them online or have them printed. I like a pedicure now and then.

In other words, I'm human. But.

I am not considering weight-loss surgery for vanity.

I've established and admitted to some vanity. Yes, I have body image issues, self-esteem issues, an eating disorder history. Yes, I would love to wear a size 8--but I went to my 20-year high school reunion in a size 28, and I had a good time. I felt that I looked as good as any other woman that was there--I'm just not as thin as they are. I may well have been the heaviest person in the room, but years of therapy, defiance, half a Xanax, good friends, and emotional maturity enabled me not to dwell on it. The entire time.

I'm going to admit something I'm not terribly proud of, though. I didn't eat when I was there. I took a couple of bites of my husband's food. I still don't like eating in front of people.

In other words, I'm human.