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The Beautiful Life


I was in my late thirties when I finished my college degree, and one of my favorite professors made a comment that these days, I can’t get out of my head.  She said that our thirties are the best, because when we are in our forties, everyone starts getting sick.

I fear it’s true.  Three people I know have MS.  Three people I know have been affected by lung cancer.  I have friends who have or who are battling breast cancer; a beautiful woman I know is about to have her cancerous insides removed.  I am at that age when things that didn’t creak before are starting to moan; where every twinge or tingle bodes of something malicious, and I put off the doctor because I’m not sure I want to know.

But the truth is, I want to live vibrant life.  A beautiful life.  And that includes — but is not limited to — living out that life in a beautiful, healthy body.

What is a beautiful body?  In my mind, right now, it is healthy, strong, not tiring in the middle of the day.  It encases a brain that is wired for productivity, a heart that pumps rich, luscious blood to all sorts of places.  It has abs that don’t hang over my jeans and a butt that doesn’t spread like cheese.  It craves a hard workout and healthy food from the earth, not the processing plant.

I know that as this blog evolves,  heated discussion around the societal norms and mores of beauty will ensue.  But the over-arcing idea here is about finding my own beauty — what makes me feel beautiful?  What is beautiful to me?  How can I create more beauty — spiritually, physically, emotionally?

This beautiful life thing has become a theme in my thinking.  What are the things that create beauty in life?  For me, aesthetics are definitely involved.  I want color and flowers, textures and fragrance.  I want the sensual.  The carnal.  I want freshness.  I want to look good in my jeans and not have to check my blood sugar daily.  I want to drink of the wine, feel ice cream melt on my tongue, drip a honey-scrub over my body in the shower.  I want to run my own hands across my muscles and feel awe.

It will begin with a quest for health.  Surely the path will expand to include more.

But hopefully, my butt won’t.


Posted by

Sold out Jesus-freak, mom of 2, wife, Christian Life Coach and speaker, friend-in-need-of-grace, writer of stuff.

2 Comments Join the Conversation

  1. I wrote this earlier – but it disappeared! While it’s true that as we age, more of us get sick, I consider my 40s and 50s happier than any earlier period of time. I am more confident, more “what the hell,” more “sure, I’ll try it!” than at any other period in my life. So it’s not all gloom and doom as we age – and I’m saying this as someone who is currently fighting one of those health demons – breast cancer!


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