Do you ever look in the mirror and think about all of your imperfections? Or stop short of eating those cookies at the office because you know exactly where on your body they’ll sit after you eat them?
A few months ago I was having some thoughts. You know, the ones where you re-realize you’ll never have a supermodel body, and you’re so glad oversized sweaters and plaid shirts are accepted workday clothing. I thought about how I used to do sit-ups more regularly, and how I ate less junk food. And then I thought about how many people I care about judging me and my imperfections. One. I care about what one person thinks about me, and that is Tyler.
Tyler, it turns out, thinks I’m pretty. And that I smell good, that I’m funny and smart. He never lets on that my body is any different than a model, or that I should stop gulping mugs of hot chocolate at night. He never mentions the sit-ups I don’t do, or the random sun spots that have appeared on my face.
That right there is true love, and it makes me as happy as all the donuts I don’t skip eating. Mistakes, imperfections, baby issues, hangry moments – this guy accepts them all. And even better, he’s agreed to remake February 14th into a celebration of cheesy gag gifts and delicious food! (I was considering gifting this. Or making things interesting with this.)