My hands are wrinkly. It seems no matter how much lotion I put on them, or how gentle of a soap I use...they are still wrinkly. And getting more so with age.

I have stretch marks. I mean, I HAVE stretch marks. These stretch marks are so vivid, and so present that my belly literally looks like a road map, or like tiger claws going down my entire torso...these are the gifts from my four beautiful children. I lotioned and lotioned when I was pregnant, and they still came. They are only some of my permanent scars from childbearing.

I hate shaving my legs, but I love having shaved legs. For me, personally, it's the whole process of having to shave. It's an inconvenience that I am expected to keep my hairs from existing on my legs. I also hate getting waxed. Who seriously wakes up in the morning and goes, "YES! I get to get waxed today!"? If a person exists that is like that, please introduce her to me...

I have "back fat." And I can't blame it on the bra. It's there even when I'm naked. It's my current theory that it's part of the whole triplet pregnancy, sagging skin stuff, but I'm not exactly sure. No matter how many crunches, squats, or exercises I do...the skin still hangs.

My stomach hates me. That statement might seem a little dramatic, but I am completely convinced that it wants to kill me. I can hardly put anything in to it without it causing me vast amounts of pain. Or maybe, it's trying to save my life, by forbidding me from eating anything with fat, grease, or dairy. Maybe it's trying to literally prevent me from killing myself with junk food. Maybe my stomach, is trying to make me lose weight.

I LOVE crunchy food. I could easily sit down and eat an entire bag of Doritos with no problem. It's not so much the taste, but the crunch that I enjoy. Toast gives me equal amounts of pleasure. And no matter how many Weight Watchers meetings, or Jenny Craig consultant conversations occur...I will NEVER buy in to the notion that eating celery sticks, or carrot sticks, or popcorn can satisfy my need for that crunch. They simply do not fit the bill. However, due to the graciousness of my angry stomach, I no longer get to enjoy those chips.

Working out makes me tired. It makes me so tired that I can hardly keep my eyes open when I'm finished. It always makes me laugh to read that working out gives you energy. I promise you, every single time, I am ready for a nap when I've finished working out. It does, however, make my days much more productive. It makes my mind feel sharper and more alert. But so does eating nothing but boiled chicken and raw vegetables (this seriously has worked wonders on my brain clarity).

I am lazy to a fault. It's strange how a person can be lazy, and bored at the same time. In theory, the notion of boredom should push someone beyond their laziness and in to the act of productivity. This doesn't usually happen with me. I find myself desiring less and less stuff to do, especially as more and more things need to happen.

I love my husband being in the military. I love hearing him put his dog tags around his neck. I love watching him lace up his boots. I love hearing him attach his patches to his ACU top. I love that it keeps him physically fit. I love that it's a stable, reliable job with benefits. I wish it didn't take him away from me as much as it does...but...as I get older, I am more able to recognize that there's beauty in the distance, and that the times apart really do make our relationship stronger, and our love deeper.

Every night before I go to sleep, I lay in bed and imagine that my husband is holding me. It happens every night whether I am intentionally thinking of him or not. And every single night, my heart aches, and my body physically longs to feel his presence next to me. I never knew what it meant to physically long for someone. It was always an abstract thought in my mind. I now know what it feels like. I can tell you that it sucks.

I am so sick of diets. I think it would be absolutely wonderful if we could banish all fast food restaurants and junk food. I feel this way mostly because I know that those foods make my body feel terrible, but the temptation of them is awful. Tonight I sat in my car eating a home made salad, while my daughter ate chicken nuggets and french fries (her request on our special mom and daughter night). It took quite a bit of strength to not lean over and steal a fry...

I love cooking. I love the smell of the food that my mind creates. I never use recipes. I'm just not really into them. I think it is much more fun to let my mouth create and blend spices and sauces and flavors and textures, and then see if it ended up being something good in the end. I love that my husband adores the food that I make. I love that he misses it when he's away. I love the excitement in my children's voices when they know I am cooking them dinner. They don't always eat what's prepared, but they feel so happy that I've cooked them something.

I used to think I would be something completely different than who I am. I used to believe that the value in life was in status symbols: degree, husband, house, job, car, etc etc. I now believe that almost all of those things are literally meaningless. I could care less if someone thinks I'm wise, or pretty, or rich, or classy. My life's purpose is not to fulfill someone else's opinion of who I should be. Nor is it to fill some status quo of who I think I should be. Truthfully, my heart's desire is just to be a lover. I want to love with a depth and a passion that the world hasn't seen in ages. I want to love Christ, love my husband, my children, my neighbors, my family, my peers, fellow citizens, and fellow humans deeply. I want to love until my heart gives out. And it doesn't necessarily matter to me if anyone credits me for this. I want to do it, not so that people will think greatly of me, but simply because it's needed. People need to feel love without judgment. There's so little of that nowadays...