"I am beautiful." The narrators soft voice croons through the speakers.
I cringe, but easily repeat the words. "I am beautiful."
Everyone has always told me how pretty I am. Gorgeous, stunning, breathtaking; all words used by my parents, friends, teachers, even strangers. But they see who I am on the outside.
I despise who I am on the outside.
Perfectly coiffed, manicured, waxed and well-manner all wrapped up in a perfectly presentable package. Silky blonde hair with big beautiful beach waves—fake of course—designer clothes, and lips that, according to my BFF Tegan, can bring grown men to their knees.
And surprisingly, those are all of the things that I hate about myself.
Who gives a shit if I'm a size six or if my hair has the perfect balayage? What about who I am on the Inside? What about the magnificence of my soul? Doesn't that matter anymore? Today's world is so consumed with beauty and the perfectly sculpted body that the really important things that people have to offer often go unnoticed.
Such as kindness and compassion.
"I am strong."
Glaring at the screen on the dash, I wrinkle my nose at the narrator. This one is a bit harder because I'm the opposite of strong.
I'm weak.
A puppet of sorts, conforming to what everyone else wants often times forgetting that it's okay to have an opinion. It's okay to be ... me.
And the real me doesn't want to be a stepford wife. The real me wants to sew and design and be free.
And that's exactly why I moved here, away from the hustle and bustle that is was my life. Away from the proverbial hell and straight into Heaven.
Heaven, Texas, that is.
Population ten thousand five hundred, and home of the thickest, saltiest air in the entire universe, air that is no doubt doing a number on my overpriced extensions. Normally this would be a problem—today it isn't. Because today is my new normal. Today is about letting go, moving forward and embracing me ...
Lennon St. James.
Seamstress.
Designer.
Independent woman.
See, I've got this in the bag.
Squaring my shoulders, I take a deep breath. "I am strong."
"Very good," the narrator says before the gentle music fades. There's a click through my speakers and then a huskier voice says, "This is the end of session one."
I'm not typically one to listen to self help programs. In fact, I've never listened to one until today and it wasn't really by choice. The people who rented the car before me must've left the CD in and considering I've probably spent a whopping ten hours in the front seat of a car—ever—I couldn't figure out how to take the darn thing out. So, I took it as a sign. A little self help will never hurt anyone right?
"Please insert disc two; Free Yourself of Anxiety and Stress."
I make a mental note to search for disc to while glancing to my right where I'm momentarily stunned by the most breathtaking coastal view.
My world has been filled with skyscrapers and busy streets where a five-minute commute easily turns into twenty or thirty. But here ... here's it's much different. The open road begs for the windows to be down, the music to be cranked, and the hot summer sun to be soaked up.
