Dear Future K. Marie,
The number on the scale won't matter, neither will the size of those jeans.
You won't remember all the times you nervously tried to predict the outcome of something that seemed 3,000 times more mortifying or heartbreaking than it actually was.
Your memory simply isn't big enough to remember every single time you were irritated because the coffee wasn't ready, your favorite dress was at the bottom of the hamper or somebody refused to let you over on the highway.
You have my permission to forget all that stuff.
What you will remember are the times you danced barefoot in the sand to no music at all. You'll laugh as you think about the hours you spent laughing with your sister-friends, even if it was past your bedtime. Your heart will glow as you think about all the advice your dad gave you...and you'll realize he was 100% right, every single time. You will remember those moments when man told you it was impossible, but God grabbed hold of your situation and turned it around so fast, you still can't quite put together all the pieces of the puzzle.
But it worked. For your good.
You're not too old to have children. Your parents had two babies at a time when everyone said they were "too old." And your grandmother was in her 40s when she had your dad--her 12th child!
Don't get cute though. You're not about that minivan life.
Keep running, even when you think it will feel so much better to sit on the couch and watch American Greed. Girlfriend, it's all about that ten-minute window after the run--when your mind and body are both kind of quietly state the obvious: Dang. We did that.
Despite what Shayla says, you're funny. Keep telling your silly jokes.
Stop being so cheap!
In every single way possible, love yourself.
The only thing stopping you is you.
See you at the finish line.
Love,
K.
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