C'est Le Weekend: I love myself

This past week, with my parents having gone back to South Africa, and me losing a large part of my personal cheering squad, it dawned on me that I had to accept myself.
Cellulite and all.

Easier said than done.

I'm trying to change how I think about myself - I have a niggling feeling that I might be responsible for all my health problems - how I think about myself and look at my life and the things I've achieved (or not).   
Because, really, I don't like myself an awful lot.

I tend to put others' needs before my own, will deny myself a helluvalot in order to be liked and thought of as a 'nice person'.
This is all very fine and well if you are Mother Teresa, but not if you are your common & garden variety person and if you have some clear issues with setting boundaries.

I also saw an interview with Anita Moorjani and how she recovered from cancer (and before her diagnosis, she did pretty much all the same things as I do) and her insights into why she got it in the first place.

Before you think I'm a Purple-Clad Dipstick,  with airy-fairy ideas about the world and the universe, I must assure you that I'm pretty normal [boring].  

But I can't help but think that what Henry Ford said is true:  
Whether you think you can, or whether you think you can't, you're right - and therefore how our thoughts and beliefs shape our worlds.  

I love myself.
I'm just fine.
My large thighs cast the most wonderful shade on a hot, sunny day. 
But they're beautiful and serve me well and I adore them.
And that's the bloody truth!

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