Becoming Better Friends

This morning, I looked in the bathroom mirror. 

I can't say I was ga-ga for what I saw. She looked a little grouchy, and in real need of Vitamin D. 

Hi, I said to myself, you seem out of sorts. 

She looked back at me. I was tempted to change my shirt, go get creams and combs and attack this situation properly. But I stayed at the mirror. I'd been a lousy friend to myself for so long; I wasn't going to walk out on myself this time. 

You know, I said into the mirror, I think you're hurting a bit. Then I told myself what I'd want a friend to tell me: 

It's okay, honeybunch. I'm here with you; we're in this together. 

And even though I wasn't sure if I felt it or believed it, I'd work towards it. I wanted to be better friends with my mind and with my body. Here at the mirror seemed as good a place as any to begin. 

Okay, I told myself. You're grouchy, you're in pain, you could use more sunlight. And you're okay. I paused. I mean we're okay. 

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