SHS is the best!

So...this week has been somehow unusually hard on me, not because of anything anyone has said or not said to me but because sometimes, no matter what people say or think, we feel ugly...whether it be inside or out, it happens.

I usually prefer not to talk directly about specific people on this blog however for brevity I will and do so with no hesitation. When I broke up with Damon, I confirmed to myself that I was a worthwhile person. That I was pretty, that I wasn't a horrible person, even that I could attract normal & good people. It's true. It's amazing what you have to re-learn about yourself coming out of a long history of mentally abusive relationships. At this point in my life, I have stabilized (no laughing Chris), and for the most part have seriously built my confidence and self esteem quite substantially. But no matter how much confidence you have worked for there is always self doubt. It's what keeps us striving to better ourselves. But it can also be destructive. Enough said.

This morning, while waiting for the 140 San Mateo bus, an average looking guy about my age in a car stops infront of me, and a ton of people waiting for the same bus, and rolls down his window. Now, usually when this happens to me the guy is asking if I "want a ride baby" and the whole thing seems to be leading to "suck my dick bitch." And usually I was (in college) wearing something somewhat suggestive. Not this morning. My hair was wet from swimming, pulled back in a low bun, I had a red SHS midriff under a white climbing tanktop (not showing my midriff by any means), and a black pair of yoga/climbing pants, and I was standing with my backpack on, arms folded around my stomach.

"Did you go to Sandia?" "Yeah I did." "Cool, so did I. I just saw your shirt, that's cool. You're looking very attractive this morning." At this point, I do what I always do and ignore the compliment as if he had made an error but figure a smile will suffice. So I smile. "Usually people say thank you went they are complimented." "Thank you." "You're welcome." And the window is rolled back up.

A complete stranger, with nothing to gain, wanting exactly nothing from me tells me I'm attractive. Usually I wouldn't take this as any sort of indication of anything. But given the situation I let myself be happy for me.

Let me tell you now, this is no substitution for the compliments I get at home. And there is no shortage of them. This is mearly a statement that now I know there are other people in this world who think I'm attractive. Yeah, it's true.