See, I know I’m flawed. But if I can appreciate my flaws, then I can acknowledge my beautiful weirdness.
My husband is delightfully different, and, dare I say, weird. He makes life so interesting, day-in and day-out. Heaven forbid he was normal! Perhaps we’d get bored with each other if we weren’t pretty proud of our joint weirdness.
I guess I’m not concerned about whether anyone else cares if I use the word weird to describe myself. After all, I’ve never really been concerned if someone doesn’t like me. It’s taken me a long time and many years to get to this point.
When I can love me for me, weirdness and all, I get super comfortable in my own skin. It’s taken me a long time to feel this way.
That’s why being weird is ok with me!
