I am wearing pants I have had for many, many years. They are my “work pants.” These pants have paint stains, worn knees, frayed cuffs. These pants hold the “dirt” of many memories of household improvements and yard work.
They use to be my good pants. A splurge from an upscale store. Pants that I saved to wear to church and my children’s school events. I wore them all the time. Eventually, they wore out. They still had a lot of wear left in them, just not for a social settings.
Each work project they would pull on with ease. Until this season. The zipper barely closes. It has nothing to do with how old the pants are. They still fit. Just in an uncomfortable way. I have outgrown my pants.
I came to this decision while sitting on the stoop, eating a cookie. I thought about how I have outgrown myself. I have dealt with being uncomfortable in my own skin, not just because I have gained a few pounds. I have changed in many ways. I am bolder. I am more aware of my abilities and shortcomings. I have experienced things I never imagined I could. I have had dreams come true and dream I heave had to let go of. It was hard, but I put the work into myself.
I came to this decision while sitting on the stoop, eating a cookie. I thought about how I have outgrown myself. I have dealt with being uncomfortable in my own skin, not just because I have gained a few pounds. I have changed in many ways. I am bolder. I am more aware of my abilities and shortcomings. I have experienced things I never imagined I could. I have had dreams come true and dream I heave had to let go of. It was hard, but I put the work into myself.
I chose to deal with outgrowing myself. I will choose to deal with outgrowing my pants. First, I am going to finish having a cookie.
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