Who is that Fat Lady in the Photo?

We have all a better guide in ourselves, if we would attend to it, than any other person can be.

Jane Austen

This past weekend, the Bunco Bitches got together for one of our famous weekends. Hadn't had one since last November. I was ready.

Our original plan had us spending Friday night at JoD's new bungalow in a little town in the Hill Country. (Another Midlife Jobhunter, she is setting up a whole new life for herself.)

Well, you know how it goes. One night stretched to a long, lazy morning and then a walk about town, which led to the local watering hole. Next thing you know, everybody is headed down the road to my cabin for another night of decadent behavior. Home? What is home?

Languid ladies sipping luscious wine while the sun's light slides beneath the landscape.

Of course, we had a photographer in the group. Here I am driving my VW bug on our way to the lake. When my friend posted this photo on Facebook, I looked and looked. Who was that smiling lady with the double chin?

In my last post, I mentioned an excerpt from Simple Abundance - A Daybook of Comfort and Joy (Warner Books, 1995.) I actually found the entry Sarah Ban Breathnach writes in her selection for February 12.

Today, try to find a photograph of yourself when you were about ten. Make sure you're smiling. Put it in a pretty frame and place it on your dressing table, desk... and look at it every day. Send love to that young girl. Try to travel back in time and imagination.

...because age ten was probably the last time you trusted your instincts. You didn't listen to the opinions of your mother, your sister, your friends because you had your own.

...I remind myself that once upon a time, I trusted my instincts. You did, too. Once upon a time there weren't second or third guesses. It can be that way again.

...Try to contact the girl you once were. She's all grown up now. She's your authentic self and she's waiting to remind you how beautiful, accomplished, and extraordinary you really are.

Here is my ten year old self.

Fourth grade. I more often than not saw things differently than those around me. I didn't understand why, nor the loneliness it sometimes wrought, but I kind of liked the independence it created. My mother and I had opposite opinions on what I should wear. My bedroom was a mess; my dresser and night table covered with pictures, artifacts I liked to look at, dust, paperwork that needed tending or filing, and probably something I'd worn and not hung up. My favorite color was blue. I rarely had my attire completely together. I loved spaghetti. I played teacher. My favorite subject was reading.

Hmmm, nothing's changed there. Except for that double chin. Probably should work on that.