Let’s get Real! (a little later)

On my world wide web travels I only recently found the blog by Maureen from Twig and Toadstool, who in turn was inspired by Shakti Mama to post a picture of myself without much ado. All in favour of total self-acceptance. 

Ah, what a topic. I remember being a young girl, maybe 9 or 10 years old and thinking that one day when I will be 33, 34, I would have all my life settled, feeling good about myself, where I am at, what I looked like, found my clothing style, happy in my home, my relationship. Just settled and happy. Now, having seen those years come and go, and having many pieces of the puzzle in place for now (and that is wisdom reached – for now – !!) one elusive item is self acceptance. Comfort in how I look, how I act, how I feel to myself. 

There are many days when I feel that the only thing acceptable and good and beautiful about me is the work that I produce. To hear that one of my paintings makes a client cry from happiness, a dear doll is carried everywhere, to see that at an art show with hundreds of people looking at thousands of pieces of art, they stop to look for more than 30 seconds at my work – that is validation of what I can create, what I can give life to. But myself, I have never been on the receiving ends of compliments for my person or my looks especially. Actually, the only time I had ever gotten compliments on my looks was when I was doing online dating, before I meet my husband online. (I don't think it would be very conducive to a happy marriage to go on one of those sites now to get affirmations…..)

On vulnerable days I find comfort in the fact that even though my outside might not make people react with favorable comments, at least what is created from deep within can, hence that would mean that I posses at least an inner beauty to shine through. 

But why then I wonder why I am so hard on myself, surely, often it is on hormone induced days, but it also stems from not having had a job where I had to dress for, having a child that is extremely and wonderfully physical in his showing of affection and "uppy-hugs", precluding the effort of dressing up, since that only lasts about 3 minutes anyway before something is disarranged, stained or otherwise disheveled. 

Why does it hurt when somebody that we would love to think we are attractive makes a comment about something that we can't change of ourselves. A silly comment from an old friend that I would look more attractive to him if I had straight hair. Something that doesn't even have relevance except to stroke the ego, as we are a married woman and so not available to anybody except hubby. 

Why does it hurt to see so many of my pictures where I have my mouth ajar, my jaw sideways, due to a cross-bite I had as a child. Something that although the teeth have been corrected, the jaw still moves that way. Something dear friends always say they don't notice, yet I see it in most candid shots? There was a time when I was younger where I loved to see pictures of myself, all posed of course, but never liked myself in action. Now, I think I don't pose anymore, so I also don't like my pictures any longer. It is strange from loving being in front of the camera to hiding behind it. 

I wonder though, at what age or if ever I can just love myself and even take pride in how I look and for all the idiosyncrasies I posses. All those little things that make me just me.

So here it is, the picture taken just after getting out of bed and into the kitchen.


I also have to add, that I used to be oh so proud of my curly hair, back in the 80's when curly hair was the cat's meow. But after my most recent unsuccessful hair cut, and after a pregnancy whose bad hair side-effects lasted over 5 years, I am less than enamored with my tresses. 

So how about this post, not related to business, not related to my creations, but all about me and my outside (not to worry.. I could also go on about how miserable I often feel about my mothering skills, my non-existent household skills and my lack of physical activity and stamina, but we'll leave that for another day….) I hope by showing myself this "naked" it might give you the courage to join Let's get Real!

To walk a year in my shoes

Studio shoes that is…


Walk a year in my shoes…

you will create paintings

you will cry tears about missed times 

    where you will not create

    because you do NOT hold the time in your hands

    you do not have the time

    your hands do not work when you have



    they are painful

    so no matter you feel 


    you can not hold a brush in

those precious, rough, sandpaper like 


Walk a year in my shoes…

you will hold your family dear

    cry with love for them

you will get paints on your hands

    and can't get it off before you leave

so people will think it is blood

    the blood of creation

Walk a year in my shoes 

you will just have spent a year 




you will have gotten married

learned to sew french seams

    in cream silk

felt low about the little time your day has

    for you to spend at the studio

yet you will also have come to realize


important is

    that the fast fleeting years you have with 

    your son so young 

    will be gone

    too soon

so now is the time to worry less

    steal time when you can 

    and treasure and be 


because, oh, so handsome he is