She let herself go.

“She really let herself go”, they say in a casually cruel conversation. I’m not meant to hear it, but I feel it nonetheless.

She let herself go. She made weekly trips to visit her parents, sharing home cooked meals in her childhood home. She visited the winery with her best friends, basking in the sun with a glass of white wine, sharing the joys and pains from the months past. Never did she deny a slice of birthday cake that celebrated another year spent with someone she loved. She sipped on margaritas and snacked on chips with her friends from across the world. Sure, she spoke a little too fast and laughed too generously, but she so cherished this time.

She learned of the brutality of life at a young age. As beautiful as it was, there was no guarantee for it. It could be stolen away in a moment. For she knew that when she was dead and gone, she wouldn’t be missed for her body. Nobody would mourn her beauty. Those who truly loved her would miss her warmth and softness. They’d miss the brightness of her smile and the vigor with which she hugged. She counted every day as a blessing and while she hoped to make it to eighty, to meet her great-grandchildren, she was grateful to make it to today. 

She let herself go. She grew in confidence and strength until she could let go of the critical voices. There was no denying her flaws, but didn’t she live in an imperfect world? She was made with a purpose by a great God.  There was no point in pinching her fat or hating her belly, which once held miraculous life. Her priorities were forever changed when she became a mother. She was no longer a girl, eager to please, she was the holder of the best gift and responsibility. Her mind, her hopes, and her dreams were occupied by her family. 

She let herself go. She cared less about her clothing and the makeup on her face. She tied her tangled mess of hair on her head before chasing her boys through the yard. She dressed her kids before herself and was ready to spend the day covered in mud or flour or paint. Every morning she cooked nourishing meals for her family and for herself. Gone were the light-headed days of skipping meals for the sake of vanity. She hoped they’d see beyond her looks, how joyfully she mothered and how easily she found the good in every day. How easily she saw the good in them. 

She let herself go. She let herself sing at the top of her lungs while watching her favorite musicians perform. She stayed up too late and walked too many miles, exploring a new city with her sister. Her summer days were spent splashing in the pool with her boys, jumping off the diving board and sharing sundae cones. She saved her money, not for beautiful or practical things, but so she could make magical memories with her kids. She let herself go into the world and experience the things that brought her joy. 

So yes, she has let herself go. But not only by means of her smile being rounder, fuller. She let herself go and love her life freely.