Dog Days

Some days, no matter what you look like or who you have in your life, it is impossible to feel anything but unlovable and uncomfortable in your own body and mind. I think I have spent the majority of my childhood and adult life feeling this way on some level though in the last few years I have managed to stem the tide of these thoughts and feelings post-lap band. But, inevitably, there is the day I wake up and nothing looks or feels right about me (and then there are some weeks...).

Today, of course, is one of those days. I woke up feeling a bit like a dog with one ear and no hair except on the crown of his head. Tongue hanging out, three legs flopping along through the morning, and my one good eye allowing me to witness my own splendor. Days like today I pretty much consign to a file in my head called "Get Through and Get Over It."

I went to 7-11 to get some milk for my breakfast on the way to work. As I was checking out, as usually happens to me in Taiwan, the clerk was happy to speak to me in English. I smiled and waited for him to finish tallying my milk up (I always end up buying at least two cartons) and was surprised to hear him say something to me that had nothing to do with my milk.

"You smell nice."

Now, incredibly creepy aspect aside, his delivery was actually more on the pleasantly friendly side instead of the leering I'll take your picture when you're not looking side. After saying this, he told me my total, I paid, and we went our separate ways without any further speculation on my "smell" or anything else for that matter.

Striking off on my scooter for work in the morning sun, I thought "Well, there's something."

Although I might be a scraggly bit of a dog today in my own mind, for one person there was something notably pleasant about me that I couldn't see (or smell for that matter). I think this is true most days. When we feel most unlovable, somebody can see something in us to love. When we feel most unattractive, someone can see something to admire. It's a good reminder; it's good to have some perspective.

I will most likely never see Mr. 7-Eleven again and I have no desire to either. I'm happy for the moment in the sun he gave me this morning. Mostly, I am happy that though I will wake up some days and wonder why or how or WTH, someone will look at me and me and have an answer.