Warning: Uncomfortable Post Ahead

Yesterday Chachi and I were at REI. I wanted to pop in quick, look at backpacks, and see about a couple specific items for a walk/hike I have planned. Toting leftovers from lunch, I promised him it wouldn’t take long.

After finding a backpack, I needed to check out one more thing upstairs. We went our separate ways because for some mysterious reason he wasn’t interested in combing the clearance rack to see if they had a discontinued hiking skirt in stock. (The mysteries of teenage men…)

So there I am, on a Hunt-n-Gather mission, looking through the rack item-by-item in every size, searching for an above-the-knee skirt with three deep pockets in semi-stretchy fabric, hopefully in a color that doesn’t suck. Out of the corner of my eye, I see this woman, and instantly I think, “I want to be her.” I’m not sure what made that be my immediate reaction, but she had this…Vibe. Curvy and strong, messy bun, cool, confident, calm look about her. Tanned skin, black tank top and distressed jeans, and backpack ready to hike, explore, climb, love, laugh, take on the world or the outdoors and do whatever the heck she wants. She was a badass. In a micro second I measured her up, set my #lifegoals, and darted my eyes back to the rack as to not put off the creeper vibe.

Unable to restrain myself, or perhaps instinctually, my eyes glanced away from marked-down T-shirts and coverups for one more look. And I’m still uncomfortable and amazed and shocked and happy with what I saw. Peeps—it was me. The woman I saw—curvy and tan and tall and strong and ready to conquer the trail or love or life or the world—it was me. Out of the corner of my eye as I flipped through clearance clothes in prep for an imaginary trip I keep telling myself I’m taking, I saw my own reflection in a mirror that I hadn’t noticed was there, and for that first split second I. didn’t. recognize. myself.

Holy schmoley. Yep. I bet I can unpack THAT with my therapist for weeks on end. But what I know is that the person I saw and wanted to be was ME. And, it’s true. Tall and tan, curvy, increasingly confident and calm, ready to take on trails or trials, backpack carrying the stuff I need to and hands free to put down the stuff I don’t. Parts of me as messy as my bun and the sum of the whole delightful and strong.

I don’t know when it happened. I don’t know when the reflection in the mirror became all those things and why or how I’d become unrecognizable and “I want to be her” -worthy. But, Peeps, it did. Beyond careers or churches or hobbies or life or love, friends and laughter and betrayal and heartache, there’s this person there I want to be, and a person there that I’m settled into, proud to say I am.

In case you’re wondering, I didn’t find the skirt. I did try on a dress that I didn’t buy because Nathan told me it looked like a prison uniform (and it did), but what I left with was so much more. Right there by the clearance rack, just past the swimsuit coverups and graphic tees, backpack in tow, I found me.