Out on a Limb

by Hannah Bonam-Young

I, like most women my age, have learned to hate myself just enough to appease others. If you’re too fond of how you look, you’re told you’ll be unlikeable. Labeled as self-involved, egotistical, or stuck-up. But it’s purposeful—pitting us against one another. Consumerism demands we remain unsatisfied with our appearance. If we all liked ourselves, dozens of industries would crumble like Babylon. We have to want a solution to whatever or however many problems plague us in order to keep those factories running. To keep money in men’s pockets.

What I realized, though probably far too young, is that some things can’t be “fixed.” There were no “Ten Quick Ways to Grow More Fingers” magazine articles for me to read as a teen. No creams that would blur or fix or correct my hand. Just deep pockets, long sleeves, and strategic posing that kept my hand out of view. Hidden like all flaws should be.

Tomorrow, I’ll give myself permission to try and fail.

I think, deep down, I’m reminding myself that either way, it will be okay. I’ll still have me, the beach, and this baby come summertime, even if Bo reacts poorly. Even if he wants nothing to do with us. I’ll still have my peace. I just might have to work a little harder for it.

I miss feeling young and carefree and naïve. I wasted so much of that time wishing I was older. Waiting impatiently to get out and live my own life. But that never really happened. I just got older. And now look at me. Nothing to show for it.

It’s so much easier to communicate insecurities when you don’t need to communicate them at all. Isn’t that all we ever want? To be seen and heard? Validated, even when we’re not able to ask for it.

“As capable as you think I am, it’s far less than how capable I think you are,”

Sometimes…things are just good things. I could spend my whole life waiting for the other shoe to drop, or I could begin training myself to expect the best. Embrace gratitude and drop the skepticism.

“This I can’t explain,” he says, holding out the red bandanna I lost on Halloween. “This I kept before I knew anything about the baby. Before I knew how much I was going to love you. Because, clearly, some part of me already did.” I cover my mouth, looking down at his hand, clasped tightly around the bandanna as my brain catches up with my soaring heart. “I think I knew that I needed a piece of you to hold on to. I was walking out of that room and I saw this on the chair next to the door and…I don’t know. I just needed to take a part of that night with me.”

“Then, on one random day in December, you texted me. I felt like I’d won the lottery.”

“Ever since then, I’ve fallen deeper and deeper in love with you. Your heart, your kindness, your strength, your joy, your selflessness.”

“You are my soul’s purpose, Win. To know you, to love you, to build a family with you, to spend every day taking care of you, to watch you shine and get all the good things you deserve out of this life.”

“Winnifred June McNulty, love of my life and mother of my child, will you please marry me?”