Currently it’s before midnight. Mom and Dad are watching television, I’m doing laundry, and the most interesting thing we’ve talked about all day is how much dog hair the vacuum cleaner sucked up earlier this week. I mean, I saw the evidence in the yard this morning–it looked like a toupee. Anyway, it’s not exactly a Friday night to be envied, but I’m planning on getting up early tomorrow, and that’s why I’m writing now and not watching Netflix with my imaginary boyfriend.

Speaking of which.

For my birthday two different friends sent me a GIF of Zac Efron blowing a kiss and winking at the same time. One of them posted it on Facebook, which–I often forget–my mom is a member of. So the next day my mom referenced the GIF and said (and I quote), “I bet you could look at that all day.” (Take all the time you need to stop laughing.) I said, “Aren’t you cute?”

See what I missed out on by staying in the closet so long?

I’m planning to get up earlier than normal tomorrow in order to do yard word for a friend. I can’t say I’m looking forward to it, mostly because I’m used to getting up about the time the sun is going down, and it’s pretty difficult to weed eat a lawn by the light of the crescent moon. Plus, yard work is hard work. The older I get, the more drugs it requires. Most importantly, I don’t really have the clothes for it. When I had my estate sale last year, I got rid of all my yard work and painting clothes, said, “Fuck this shit,” and haven’t looked back since.

Until today.

Leave it to a homosexual to get hired for yard work and wonder what he’s going to wear. I actually thought about going to Walmart tonight to buy some crappy clothes that I wouldn’t have to worry about messing up. But then I remembered I have a pair of shorts that are falling apart and a four-dollar v-neck t-shirt I’m really not in love with. I thought, Okay, but what am I going to do for shoes? Well, my dad’s feet are smaller than mine, but–on a long shot–I asked if he had any old shoes that would fit me, and he did. Turns out it’s handy to have an aunt who works at a hotel where she periodically gets to raid the lost and found.

So, to the–I’m assuming–elderly gentleman with slightly wide feet who left your velcro shoes in Van Buren, thank you. My fashion standards have officially be lowered. As for you dear reader, if you happen to see me in said velcro shoes this weekend, please pretend you don’t know me.

Tonight I taught a dance lesson to a student who can be pretty tough on themselves. I mean, as a dance instructor, it’s pretty common to hear someone say, “I’ll never get this.” In response, part of me is always cheerleading at work, saying, “You can do it,” so it usually feels like I’m one pom-pom away from sleeping with the quarterback. (Wouldn’t that be nice?) Sometimes people think all my encouragement is bullshit, just an act to earn a dollar, but it’s not. Almost without fail, people exceed their own expectations (and I get to be right). Often less than fifteen minutes after doubting themselves, they’re doing the thing they just said they couldn’t.

I say, “See, you did it!” (Raw raw sis boom bah!)

“Yeah, but I won’t be able to do it again.” (GOOOOOOOO team.)

As a teacher, self-talk like this is hard to hear. Having worked with hundreds and thousands of students, I absolutely know that anyone can learn to dance. At least they can learn to dance better. In over fifteen years of teaching, only once have I thought, How did you walk up the stairs? Here’s your money back. Use it to go bowling. But even that couple, who only came to one class, could have improved. It would have just been a matter of desire, practice, and time. And really, it hurts to see capable, talented, intelligent students put themselves down and not believe in themselves.

So.

A couple days ago one of my friends sent me an email. In short, he said that after reading several of my blogs, he walked away with the crazy notion that sometimes I don’t think I’m good enough or good-looking enough. He said, “If I’ve misjudged that, I apologize.” Uh, no, you read that right. My friend then shared something a friend of his once shared. He said, “If you could only see yourself like I see you, like many other people see you, you’d never think another negative thought about yourself again.” Then he added, “You are more than your body.”

I haven’t written my friend back yet, but his email has been such a beautiful reminder to be kind to myself. Just today I’ve felt not good enough, not good-looking enough, and overwhelmed because–I don’t know–pick a reason. Some days, some years, you’re single, living with your parents, carrying a few extra pounds.

I don’t know why it’s easier to see beauty and potential in someone else than it is to see it in yourself. I have friends that I could easily forward that email to, people I think the world of and love without condition, and I can Hip Hip Hooray all day long for my dance students. But sometimes it’s difficult to extend that unconditional love and can-do spirit to myself. Still, it’s getting better, and I’m grateful we’re in this together, holding each other up, cheering each other on, and blowing each other kisses–whatever it takes to remember how beautiful we all are–even in velcro shoes.