In the mirror----Naked.

It's only taken me four days, but it's dawning on me that all of these issues about which I write don't have much at all to do with Taylor; they have to do with me. (Notice that he's not here writing about how hard his life is. I am.)
Ok, so let's talk about getting naked. I mean, getting naked and standing right in front of that mirror and looking straight on at our own nakedness. Yikes! Now add that other thing that seems to be almost impossible: Say only kind things to yourself. Only kind and loving and accepting words. Say them to yourself---
Gosh, does this make you want to throw up yet? You don't want to throw up because what you see is actually ugly---but what we're each told ourselves about our nakedness is so ugly.
OK, punchline time: Taylor loves his body. He never ever has judgement when he sees his whole body naked reflected back to him. He does not think he would be better if only..... his legs or his stomach or his fanny were different. He can look straight on--full monty--right into that mirror and not have one single judgement about who he is as a person. He can see himself naked and still love who he is. The only shame he has is what I have taught him. Ponder. Ponder. Oh S***. Yep, I'm his retarded (loving) mother.
What would we each need to know about the world within us and with-out us to love our bodies exactly as they are on this very day? What belief keeps you and me seeing ourselves--and always trying to fix things. I promise you that Taylor would look at you naked----and think---and know--that you're perfect. Can anybody out there wrap your brain (and heart) around that? Probably not. What does he know that we don't? Is there a lesson here? Why don't I/we learn it? Tell me.
Anyway, I have to go to the gym now. My legs are so fat.