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She recently rocked a red leopard-lined “fashion coat,” polka-dot heart leggings, and a leopard cat suit (complete with boa tail). She enjoyed dancing in this outfit all over the mall to the delight of patrons. Because she is my third child, I loved it. I was a different mama to my first born; she never left the house in a mismatched outfit.
I’m not sure if it’s because I’m more tired, or if apathy has finally rolled all the way in. Quite likely it’s that I know these days are numbered. I know Mama will not be her hero forever. I know someone will tell her she doesn’t sound like a rock star, so she may quit singing. I know she will be laughed at by peers and that (may) affect her desire to fit in. I know this, because I’ve seen it with her two older sisters, and experienced it myself. Yet I hold on to the hope that she will always embrace her spitfire ways and never care too much about what others think.
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My college roomy aka best-friend-turned-sister sent me a note the other day in response to me freaking out over my physical appearance, and an upcoming mini-reunion. I’d just run 12 miles in preparation for my first half marathon, and instead of being proud, I was down because I did not like the reflection in my mirror.
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By the way, college roomy is the baby of her family. We should all have at least one of them in our lives & seek to emulate their confidence and zest for life.
Lee Ann Womack sings it best: "May none of us take one single breath for granted" "I Hope You Dance!"