The Way I Love My Bike

I love my bike. I love the living you-know-what out of it. I think it is the best bike in the world. In the universe. It was a generous gift given to me by my brother for my 40th birthday. He let me pick out any bike I wanted at his bike shop, and then let me pick out any and all accessories to customize it into my dream bike. And so there it is...my dream bike, realized.

When I ride it around my little part of town, some people shout out something nice and complimentary about my bike. Some people sort of just laugh (and when I say laugh, I mean sneer). And others don't seem to notice my hot little bike at all.

But whether people love it, hate it, or are indifferent to my bike, I love it just the same.

It would be pretty empowering to love myself in just this same way. I tend to want to change the things about myself I fear others don't like. I feel either good, or bad about myself in relation to what others seem to think. But if I loved myself the way I love my bike, I'd love my hot pink wheels and never contemplate changing them back to a standard black tire. I would feel fine that 10+ speed bikes whiz past me, and I'm happily moving much slower with my 1-speed pace. I'd feel great to receive compliments about my voice, my songs, my clothes, my writing, etc- but that wouldn't define whether I am "good" or not.

Some people see my bike, and if they're like me, they think it's super cute. If they're not like me, maybe they just don't see it the way I do. And all of that is ok.

And that is the way I would like to love myself.