ah, fatties!

An often repeated exclamation of frustration, used by the youngest boy I was nannying last week.

There are so many parts of myself that I wish I could change. The shape of my face. My subconscious desires. The way my tongue refuses to roll r's. A predisposition to judge. An inborn tendency to abuse my sleep cycles. There are lots of other parts.

I wish there was some mountain I could climb, some guru I could hire, some level of an app that, having been beaten, would grant me full control to conquer all my weaknesses. I wish that changing myself was as easy as sieving river water, or picking apart a knotted necklace chain. I wish there was a reset button. I wish there was a Photoshop eraser for the brain.

Sometimes I forget that accepting myself for who I am, despite my flaws, is as useful as the non-existent brain eraser. Until recently, I failed to recognize at all that you have to tango through life, and it takes two (or more)--and if people don't want to tango with you, or if they tango badly, or if they are only using you for your sweet tangoing skills, you need to find a new partner/partners. It is sadly easy to ignore the fact that I have more than one friend that thinks I am good at being a human; it is also sadly easy to wish other people recognized me as a good human.

It is not easy being me. Or you. Or any human.