I have always deprived myself the ability to feel more than a moment's joy in my appearance. Mostly for fear of being vain or overly prideful of myself. You see, I was brought up in the Catholic faith and they sort of frown on that stuff. I took this to heart and always told myself to stop being so vain about my appearance.

I guess it was sort of imposed on me because I was always, and still am, fair skinned, red headed and dark blue eyed. Not to sound boastful, but my mother says I was unnaturally pretty as a little girl. So much so that she feared I would be taken away from her by kidnappers. So I guess I wasn't necessarily made to be ashamed of my looks, but rather to not think so highly of them in a way. Normal enough lesson, I suppose, but taken too far for too long.

This morning I decided to forgo the whole idea of forbidding myself to feel happy about my appearance and indulge in it. Boy does it ever feel good! Is this what it feels like to love oneself? I feel all warm and fuzzy and giddy inside.