Tuck This!

"I feel Pretty", you know like the song from West Side Story, when Maria, played by Natalie Wood, sings the song about "feeling" pretty. Is she blind, can't she see what's in the mirror? Natalie Wood was more than pretty. It's always the obviously pretty ones that ask that question and really mean it. Who really feels pretty, attractive, or even beautiful? Why would someone think that about themselves? Is it something we learn or is it something we are born with? I am having a Tummy Tuck in a few weeks. I had to really contemplate why I was doing it. I had talked about it for years. After two C-Sections (one from belly button down and one bikini cut (like he was doing me a favor by not having a scar show, bikini cut my ass) , menopause and a few extra pounds, the middle of my body looks like I have inner tube around it. All of my body parts have moved south for the winter and they aren't ever coming back.   Is it vanity? I haven't been a bikini since I was in high school (40 years ago). At no more than110 pounds until I was 45 I still didn't think I was attractive. Oh, wait, that's a lie, I did have beautiful hair. Long Jet Blue/Black hair. I loved my hair. But, I always wanted curly hair, I am sensing a theme here. We, as women, are so judgmental of one another. Why can't that person just STOP eating already? Why is she such a bitch? Why doesn't she dress better? She needs a make over. There are shows, "What Not To Wear" where "friends & family" actually nominate some poor sucker that ends up on the show. But, in one week, after they humiliate her on National TV, most don't just have a physical transformation but an emotional one. They feel pretty,confident, the show, "changed their life". Is that really all it takes? Beam me up Scotty. But feeling pretty? I have never really felt pretty. I always wanted to have fair skin, blond hair and boobs. That's what I saw on TV and magazines. I didn't exactly come from a family of supporters, hugs and kisses. I was the darkest of 6 kids, my nick name was, "LBJ" Little Brown Jug. My mother called me ugly, and too skinny. Thank god for a good psychiatrist (and good Meds.) Thank God for that nice jewish couple who worked day and night to put their son through medical school. I was in thearpy for so long that I added on a wing to his house in a very affluent part of town. He was good, no he was great. I healed, slowly but surely and I am still healing. Now, I have this husband this man, my best friend and lover who tells me constantly how beautiful I am, how much he loves me and I believe him but do I believe myself? My hair is thinning, no longer black, no longer long, 125 to 130 pounds (hey, don't go there, write your own blog) and my "inner tube". Pretty? Really? I still don't believe it. But, there is something about my husband telling me every day that I am beautiful, wonderful, that I can do anything I want to do that is cracking the ice. He believes in me, encourages me and is always there for me. He heals me everyday. Back to the tuck. I am excited and scared. What if my expectations are not met? What if it doesn't make me feel pretty? Wait, it's not suppose to make me feel pretty because I am not doing it for vanity, right?. What if I can actually fit into a pair of pants and look good?  Well, here we go, Tuck this!