The New Girl

The new girl. I’ve been one many times. My parents moved a lot. From the time I was seven, I was a new girl at 11, 16, 19, 22, then when married at 26, then when divorced at 45, 48, 49 and between all those major move ages many times in new businesses and jobs. When I was younger it was tough. Acceptance was so difficult and I built my character around trying to fit in to new situations. Those early years taught me that it is how you feel about yourself and who you personally want to be that matters. But it still isn’t easy. I meet people who do things that annoy me, but worse thing is that I realize they are the things that annoy me about myself. And I have such an awareness of this. Or taking on some character traits of people I am around too long that I didn’t agree with and then one morning I’m acting like them and am horrified. I am still struggling somewhat with my final painting of who I really am, but have come so far towards knowing me better since I quit bulimia and hear the cries of others, not just with eating disorders, but of simply in the scope of life, self image disorders. My breasts are larger now at 50 and so too my stomach since I gained 7 pounds. I look around and observe. Having been either bulimic or a work out freak with a fit body, this transition in my life of acceptance of the change has been a challenge. But recently I’m actually appreciating it. And I figure a bit more activity could impact some muscle around my waist and reduce my chances of an early heart attack. My views are changing. So too being a new girl. My life has been one of a nomad, or as some call me ‘Bohemian’ and I’m happy to know that I am finally getting used to being that “new girl” and not wanting to fit in but just being me.

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