Yeeaaaah, the whole “hug yourself” thing can feel really silly to me. In yoga, when instructors cue me to hug myself, I have an eyeroll moment:
Seriously? Hug myself? Here we go again. Then, I’ll have to act like a happy baby. Ugggghh…
So, I almost spit out my water when the book I was reading suggested that I kiss myself.
And then I laughed out loud. Alone. Sitting there in bed reading.
The suggestion was so irritating. Why do I read such weird shit?
My irritation also reminded me that, when you really resist something, you may want to try it. So, I kissed myself. My right bicep. Quickly. Then, I laughed out loud. Then, I kissed my left bicep. And then, I kissed them both again because… well…
It felt good. Funny. Uplifting.
It also triggered a cascade of thoughts about my arms:
They lift the pot of coffee in the morning.
They type emails and stories on my computer that I hope someone will read.
They reach out to my students, trying to connect to the people I’m teaching.
They hold me up in yoga, they tremble and get stronger.
They chop onions and peppers in the same size so they cook evenly.
They wrap around my family and friends as my heart breaks open.
They wave goodbye.
They rest at 10 and 2 on the steering wheel as I drive away from people I love with tears in my eyes.
They rise above my head on the dancefloor, reaching for freedom.
They’re so strong.
They are part of a beautiful whole.
They like to be kissed.
Beautiful reader with those beautiful arms of yours: Look at you. In so many muscle memories that you have made unconscious, your body is there supporting you and helping you and ready to be of service every day. Not just those sexy arms, but also your sexy head, neck, shoulders, torso, hips, legs, feet, toes. So much goodness.
Wow. As Ed Sheeran says, “I’m in love with the shape of you.”
Hey boo, those are some gorgeous biceps. Give them a kiss.
Seriously, bro. Stop with the eyeroll. Be a happy baby.