Relateable

So I went to this swanky yoga class the other day. When I arrived I was the only people that forgot my designer yoga mat and soy nuts. I looked around, with my TJ Max yoga mat in hand and noticed that everyone was pretty dang beautiful. People were talking amongst themselves so I took the liberty of eavesdropping. One lady had this beautiful Russian accent. She was talking to this chiseled man who had just returned from a yoga retreat in Hawaii. Then there was this gorgeous blonde who was half my size and was dressed so dang cute, even had on a perfect little headband that matched her yoga mat. Then there was I. Full because I had to eat something before yoga and clad in a wife beater tank top and pants I have had for years. As we started breathing in mountain pose my mind got to turnin'. I love yoga. LOVE IT! And no offense to the peeps in my $15 dollar class but you don't have to be a 100 pound, beautiful person who drinks green tea and eats of the earth to love it. You can eat at Taco Bell. You can have a big butt. You don't have to wear Juicy Couture to class. You can wear no makeup and opt not to do particular poses because they give you gas! Yes, they give me gas...probably the Taco Bell. Throughout my way too long yoga class tire yoga my brain was flooded with thoughts that brought me to my main point (And yes I have a main point). I WANT TO BE RELATEABLE. There is nothing wrong with being thin, beautiful, rich, vegan, etc. so I have to clarify that before I surrender to my epiphany. There's nothing wrong with being naturally brilliant or good at everything. I used to want to be that so badly. But then I submitted to the fact that God wants me relatable. Here's what I mean.

I am not the kind of girl who can put down a half of a Snickers bar down because I'm full. I can't imagine not wanting to eat a gallon of ice cream while watching Lifetime all Saturday. I am not good at sports. I had to study to make good grades. I look terrible in a bathing suit. I say the wrong thing often. I hate running more than life itself. I hate independent films. I don't appreciate modern art. I struggle with my weight. I don't wake up or step out of the shower naturally beautiful. I have had a billion cavities. I still get zits. I wear granny panties because the lacy ones are uncomfortable. I'd rather read a chic lit novel than something on Oprah's best seller list. I have cellulite and while exercising feels good, I would choose to be thin without having to do it. I probably will not lose baby weight just breast feeding.

All this to say is that I am not this close-to-perfect-good-at-everything kind of gal. I'm not saying this to cut myself down because I am good at some things. And I have accomplished a lot. What I'm saying is that I'm not this naturally talented envied person. For example: If you have a problem or suck at something....I can probably tell you I'm worse at it and not be lying. For the longest time I fought this. I wanted to not eat when I was upset. I wanted to look like a supermodel and when someone asked me what I did to look that good I'd say, "Oh, I just run after my kids!" I wanted to marry right out of college. live in a perfect home, have 2.5 kids and live like The Waltons. Well, here I am at 27. I'm not married. I don't love my current job. I'm not rich. I live in an apartment where I have to walk to the laundry room. My house and all my black clothes are covered in Boston's hair. I have love handles that didn't used to be there. I should probably wear Spanks but I get too claustrophobic. I want to run every morning but end up power walking at night sometimes. I don't have the perfect life I always wanted with the perfect job, perfect life, and perfect relationships. But I would not trade what I have for anything.

Why????? Because I am relateable. When a close friend is crying on my shoulder because she likes some loser jerk in the most unhealthy way, I can truly understand her heart. When a girlfriend calls me crying from the dressing room because she has cellulite, I can text her a picture of me in a bikini. When my friend texts me because she hasn't taken a dump that day, I can glady tell her when my last one was without turning red. When my gal pal calls me and tells me she no clue why God is kicking her when she is already down, I can read her excerpts from my journal to remind her of His faithfulness. When my good friend calls me crying because there is no man on earth for her, I can tell her the story of me and Andrew.

I am flawed. I have made many mistakes and I have gone down paths that I would have never picked on the front-end, but I know that I know that I know that God has made me who I am and taken me places so that I can truly relate to other broken people. I am clumsy, flabby, and pretty lousy at a lot of things but guess what.... I would not choose to be a size 0, marathon running, perfect human being for all the money in the world because I am exactly who I am supposed to be. I am relateable.