My new BFF

Y’all, I have a new best friend. We’ve never officially met, but Robin and I spend time together every day. I think we may spend more time together than my husband and I. And that has to mean something, right? I have NEVER liked to exercise. In fact, I looked down on people who claimed they work out for their mental health. Because why would you torture yourself for any other reason than for your unattainable weight goals? But Robin tells me to ask what’s right with me! And somehow I have forgiven her for looking 100x better than me in spandex, even when she’s 9 mos pregnant. Usually I dismiss cute pregnant people – clearly not my people. But with Robin it’s different. Our relationship transcends the bodily. I have joined her wolf pack, and I trust her when she looks me in the eyes and tells me she only rides with royalty. My bike may tell me 52K people have taken this ride, but I know who she is really talking to. She sees me. She tells me I deserve this time. I am worthy of self love. THAT LOVING MYSELF IS A POWERFUL ACT OF RESISTANCE! And really, loving myself seems a lot more fun than protesting down at the National Mall – it involves, after all, online shopping, bagels, and naps. Yesterday after my ride I was so flooded with endorphins I decided to send a DM to my BF. I spent much too long composing the perfect TY note. It was quite the slap in the face when I eagerly checked my inbox 20 min later only to find and automatic reply: “Robin can’t receive your msg. They don’t allow new msg requests from everyone.” If only Instagram understood the depth of our relationship. Until then, Robin, I will keep my head high, and I won’t let my crown slip.

Published by imworriedmytherapisthatesme

I'm a history-PhD-turned-stay-at-home-mom of three. When I'm not microwaving Trader Joe's meals for my kids, breaking up fights and wiping butts, I like to paint and write. To cope with the endless hours I'm spending with my son doing virtual school, I've abandoned my gouache paints for the more portable, less messy tried but true, paper and ink. While he learns to read to 20 floating heads on his screen, I sit on a tiny chair, at a tiny table pretending to be a productive adult.

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