Life is Like... Cheering for Everyone's Team

My younger son, B, loves sports. Being born into a family who isn't overly involved in sports has come as a grave disappointment to him, but we're all learning to cope. I simply prefer to cope with a hand full of chocolate.

In seventh grade B decided to try wrestling. I have no idea what that must have been like as an actual participant, but as a parent it was excruciating. I have never wanted to jump up from a bleacher, run down to the floor, and pull the hair of some unsuspecting fellow athlete in my entire life! All so he would just leave my son alone!

Fortunately I was able to temper those natural mama-bear instincts. Even more fortunately B decided against continuing on for another year. Instead we tried basketball.

From the parental point of view, basketball was a refreshing change. I didn't have to watch as my son was contorted into unnatural positions and was able to keep my inner beast under control. The only problem with basketball is B hadn't been playing it since he was in the womb. While other young men whose fathers had coached them since the dawn of time dribbled the ball up and down the court with the ease of the NBA, my son was learning how to play with others. It's easy to keep the ball from being stolen when no one else is there to steal it.

Basketball lasted a little more than a year before he decided it was fun when with friends, but it definitely wasn't something he wanted to continue. His latest venture is track. There are two different types of runners in track: sprinters and long distance. The first year he joined B decided to be a sprinter.

Being a sprinter entails running your absolute hardest in the shortest time possible. For me to understand the desire to make this happen I imagine a group of people being chased by a mountain lion, but if I make it to the goal first I won't get eaten. Just don't ask me why the mountain lion no longer hungers for me once I've crossed the finish line.

Sprinting wasn't B's absolute favorite, especially on the shorter races. The longer races seemed to be a better fit (like once or twice around the track). He did well, but suffered from shin splints.

During the summer one friend talked him into trying cross country running. He enjoyed it enough to decide on abandoning the sprinters and joining the long distance runners in track this year (and yes, there IS a difference between cross country and track). This is where we get in to the best part of our post.

There is a mentally handicapped young man on the team this year. He wanted to join the same team as his big brother, a senior this year. The young man obviously can't run the long distances, but that hasn't stopped him from running. His event is the 100 meter dash.

The team has had about 5 track meets this year, and in every single one I have seen something that makes my heart absolutely sing. Our sweetheart of a young man stands ready at the starting line, grinning from ear to ear in anticipation of running another successful race. The official raises his hand while the other runners get into position, and then BANG! the gun goes off.

Lanes two through eight are quickly emptied as the other runners have crossed the finish line in mere seconds, while our young man pumps his legs as fast as they will allow. Along the way are each of his other teammates who are clapping and cheering him on every step of the way. Interspersed we see members of the other teams who begin to do the same. They pump their fists in the air, cheer at the top of their lungs, clap their hands to give encouragement. And the farther down the lane he goes, the louder they get, until a massive yell of triumph comes from the lungs of every person there. Parents and students alike from three different schools all come together to cheer for and encourage one young man.

It's pretty awesome.

Sometimes life is like finding a moment to cheer for every one's team. We tend to get separated into various groups whether at school, at work, at home, at church, whatever. Groups can easily get competitive, and if we're not careful, competitive can turn ugly. But every once in a while there's someone who is able to erase boundaries, make us look a little deeper within, and remember we're all on the same course in life, whether we realize it or not in the daily grind of living.

Life is Like...Sorting Socks

Have you ever had to sort socks? Have you ever had to sort socks for more than one person?

There are six people living in my little home. Six pair of feet to cover for seven days a week, especially in the winter months. In one week we can manage to dirty forty-two pair of socks. That's eighty-four individual socks. The individual number is important. I'll even tell you why.

I sat on my bed this morning with a laundry basket FULL of socks. They were mostly white socks, but a few colors were mixed in. I'm always grateful for the colors, they make matching socks so much easier.

Imagine this basket full of at least eighty-four individual socks (I say 'at least' because inevitably some have walked off leaving behind many that don't get to have a match). Some are for big feet, some are for slightly smaller feet. Some have the brand name printed along the toes, while others have darker shades along the heels. There are socks that will go up high on the leg, and those that love to snuggle your ankles. We have the special Daddy's socks, which are different from the boys', which are different from the girls', which are different from Mom's socks.

All in all, there are a whole lot of socks.

As I sorted these various feet coverings I began to wax philosophical (tends to happen when I've been in my head for too long), and it occurred to me that life really is like going through a basket chock full of socks.

All socks start their journey by coming out of a package. They are pristine. The whites are as white as they will ever be. Colors are vibrant. Patterns are clear. Even the threads are undamaged and identical socks can be doubled up with any that look just like it. We are much the same way.

Until, of course, the inevitable happens and someone puts their feet into the socks. Some are worn on the right foot, some on the left. Some are worn outside without shoes on, while others are constantly covered. At times these socks will go to scout camp, where I am convinced the dirt in these boy-concentrated places has a special bond that mixes so completely with the socks that it never, ever, EVER comes out, no matter what magical incantations I might employ to make said socks look clean. Then there are those times the socks are not turned right side out before they are washed (no matter how many times I tell them to please please please turn them right side out before putting them in their laundry hampers!), meaning the dirt, which sticks more to the outside then the inside, often remains on the outside. I do not understand the logic of this, seeing as how all the stinky from the inside of the sock is washed out even if the sock itself hasn't been turned inside out.

After months and months of being worn, and washed, and worn, and washed, and...you get the idea...socks start to look less than pristine. In our house they begin to get those annoying little balls that get bigger and bigger until you actually sit down to tear them off. Of course these annoying little balls are bits of your sock slowly fraying, thinning them out until you can actually see parts of your skin. Hopefully those parts of skin are beautiful, rather than dry and crackly.

Eventually even the most beloved sock gets holes in them. Back in the "good old days" people used to darn their socks. No, that doesn't mean they would shake their fists at it and say, "Darn you!" It means they would take thread and painstakingly attempt to fix those holes. We don't do that any more, for which I am grateful. I think my family would decide going sockless to be a beautiful thing if I made them wear the ones I attempted to darn.

If you're anything like my husband getting rid of something that has a few holes in it is tossing out the most comfortable item of clothing in the world. Those are always, in his own words, "MY FAVORITE!!!" Silly boy. Still, every sock eventually comes to the point where it has to go away. Sometimes because it is worn out, others times because gremlins crept into the laundry basket and stole unmatched pairs, and no matter how long you keep a hold of those single-but-unable-to-mingle items, the gremlins refuse to grow a conscience and return their matches. Then comes the day you finally get rid of the singles, only to do a more thorough cleaning of your room and find the match behind your dresser. You'd think by now I'd have learned to look there first.

Over time sorting similar socks even becomes difficult, because I try my best to sort socks into similar pair of dirtiness. I think I might OCD.

Believe it or not, life is often like this. Um, not like me having OCD, but like being a sock.

We are all born into this world coming from the same package - that is, heaven. Some of us look so much alike we could be interchangeable (though I don't recommend proving it!). We are vibrant, unmarked, clear, and whole.

Then life starts. We are placed into different families and circumstances that stretch us in different ways. We are taken through various experiences that make us more individual than we were at birth. Some of those experiences are pretty stinky, some leave marks we can't seem to get rid of, while others others allow us to live good, long lives filled with amazing memories. At times we believe our perfect match has been stolen, but then realize we were meant for another pairing. We may begin life with many friends with which we can be interchangeable, then over time we recognize there are only a few we really want to match with.

Some individuals wear out fast, but are fixed along the way, helping them to last longer. Others feel they are past fixing, or refuse to be fixed. The best people are those who have worn out their lives making the lives of others a bit more comfortable, who will be missed horribly when they are called home to their Maker.

Bet you can't wait until I come up with another thing life is like ;)

Day 2 of The Negative Thought Purge

Yesterday I went to see Sue, though not for me. This was the second visit for my daughter, M, who is also in need of some healing of the mind, body and spirit. I was definitely meant to be there with them both, as things took place to make a major shift in my knowledge of what's going on in my family. It also lead me to understand more the power of forgiveness. More on that later.

After last night's purge I felt better than the day before. So much so that when I sat down to write my negative thoughts it was difficult to come up with them. Instead of having a bunch of murky, nasty, vindictive, untrue statements flow easily from my mind I found myself feeling more contemplative. The bad beliefs went deeper and were harder to come up with. Why?

I truly believe it's because under the surface of all that negativity I had to fight to find the lies. Truth is beginning to resurface. There is the Light of Christ shining through again, though there is a lot of work yet to be done and a lot more healing to experience.

The first day I managed to fill almost all three pages. This time around I barely managed a page and a half. I probably could have done more but my spirit was too busy being filled with the beauty of watching the clouds roll quickly across the sky, flowing from one vibrant color to another as the sun settled behind the western mountains.I believe when I prayed for all the empty spots that had been occupied with the icky, murky, nasty thoughts that had taken root to instead be filled with peace, there was nowhere for nastiness to settle back in.

The peace and love of our Savior is truly incredible.

The overlying feeling left with my spirit was one of forgiveness. Forgiveness of others and of myself. So long as I held on to all of those negative beliefs there was no way I could forgive anyone, least of all imperfect me. If I can't forgive myself how can I possibly forgive others?

Forgiveness is freeing. It lightens the soul and gives room for peace. The natural man doesn't want to forgive. It wants to hold tight to grievances and grudges. That's not how the Savior works. He doesn't want to see us live that way. He wants us to be happy, even if we don't believe we can ever experience it, or deserve it.

Challenge for day 2 of your negative thought purge. After you've written down all of those negative thoughts for a second day in a row, pray for the spaces to be filled with peace and forgiveness. Even if you can't believe it'll make a difference, trust in the Savior.

Rediscovering My Voice

Medically there was nothing wrong. My thyroid was normal. There was nothing swollen or out of place. No abnormal growth of cells to explain away the feeling there was something unusual in my neck. Everything was fine. Everything except this uncomfortable feeling that something...something wasn't fine.

I would lay down at night and find it difficult to breathe, as though a ball had been inserted into my neck. I could still breathe, of course, otherwise I wouldn't be writing to you today, but it wasn't with the ease I had previously experienced. I went in for testing. I was now the proud owner of a cpap machine to help me at night. The only problem - I still felt some sort of blockage.

I am a big supporter of what has been termed "Western" and "Holistic" medicine. It's no secret I love to use essential oils, as those are the medicines God originally placed on the earth to help us in the first place. I also believe God has inspired men and women to bring about the extraordinary methods to help treat illnesses in these modern times, and to dismiss them isn't respecting what God has put in place. I believe there is a beautiful middle where both can be used to the sufferer's benefit.

This last year I have been introduced to different types - modalities - of energy healing. I had no idea how many types there were. It came through my parents' introducing me to the "Emotion Code". From there I have attempted some research and even went to a conference about energy healing. In the last few weeks I came to realize the block in my neck is an emotional block. Specifically, the emotion of being silenced.

I don't care for the imagery and feelings that come with the term "chakras" as it's been mystified and corrupted over thousands of years. There is, unfortunately, no other ways to term the energy pathways of the body. It's certainly not a new concept, not for me. I'd dealt with similar things when I did allergy elimination. In different areas of the body there are different energy centers. Because my block appeared in my neck, I knew it was my voice that had been silenced.

I went to see a woman recently who works on chakras, as well as other things. She told me many things, much of which made a whole lot of sense about different things I'd been dealing with as she explained them, including the block in my neck. The biggest way to fix them? Take back my personal power.

Sounds cheesy, doesn't it? I had to take a long, prayerful look at the last few years to see where exactly I had lost my way. With the guidance of Heavenly Father I began to see little choices I had made to let others dictate what was good or bad for me, and about me. This even included the members of my own family, though none of it was intentional. I began to see with spiritual eyes that the person God needed me to become was being lost in what everyone else thought I ought to become. Deep within myself was the unaccountable knowledge that I did not have enough confidence in myself and the inspirations of the Lord in regards to His plans for me to do what I knew to be right. Instead I would cave in to what others felt was more important.

Over the last month I have worked hard to recognize these little choices. I have been asserting my own needs and desires. I have even spoken up instead of backing down when certain people have stated things I knew was not right. One funny thing occurred after my first session - my singing voice started to return. I haven't been able to sing with power in so long I thought my voice damaged. In a way it was.

It's been over a year since I last posted here. It's not for a lack of trying. No matter how much preparation I would do, what time of day I would sit down to write, nothing would come out. Ideas and thoughts would flow through my mind at hurricane speed, demanding an outlet. Not a word could be typed, because my voice was blocked.

This post right here, it's a huge step. My wishes and desires to voice my own opinions and beliefs feel like a reality now, rather than a dream. I am once more making an effort to keep my power where it belongs. With me.

Raising My Garden of Children

Another school year is coming to a close. Normally I'm excited too usher in the summer, as it means having my kids nearby so we can try playing in the warmer weather.

This year feels rather bittersweet, however, as I am realizing just how quickly my children have grown. Starting next year one will be in high school, one in middle school, and the other two still in elementary.

I know it was bound to happen. After all, I'm no longer wearing diapers. Still, today my reality of raising a family boils down to this: it is so fleeting. I can still recall bringing home my daughter from the hospital, so shocked and amazed something that beautiful lived inside of me. Now she's talking of getting a summer job, what she wants to be when she grows up, what college she'd like to attend, if she'll go on a mission, and what sort of a mom she hopes to be. I think about how old she is and suddenly I want to stick her back on my lap and rock her to sleep. She could accomplish all of this in the next five years!

I had to drop J off at school early this morning as he needed finish up a report. He gave me a quick hug before heading off along the school lawn and all I could do was watch. Watch and sit in awe at the amazing young man he's become. I recalled how often his dad and I despaired thinking he'd struggle with school his whole life because he couldn't sit still long enough in class to get anything done. Yet there he was, taking responsibility for his work by getting to school early so he might attain a good grade. He has become so dependable and dedicated, which at times boggles my mind. J, above any of the kids, is our reader. He will gobble up a book in no time flat.


It never occurred to me that Mr. B wouldn't do well in school. What has surprised me is to know he's not still in preschool, my baby-faced partner in crime who never wanted to leave home and would only leave my side because I gave him a key chain with a picture of the two of us in it. Now he's riding his bike all over the place, more excited to be with friends than at home. He's excelling in many things and loves to torture his siblings. He'd definitely still rather be at home than at school, but only if he has a brother or sister to keep him entertained (I'm not quite enough any more).

And then there's this blue-eyed beauty. She absolutely takes my breath away - partly because she never stops talking. I remember not being sure if I was ready to have one more child. Our other kids were growing up, we were able to do an awful lot now that diaper bags and infant car seats were no longer a part of the mix. Yet how could life have been worth it without this little bundle of rowdy, chattering joy? Her birthday comes late in the school year, and I worried she might not be able to handle the social aspect of being in school (she's not quite queen bee there as she tries to be at home). Not only has she been an amazing influence on the other children around her, but she has excelled intellectually as well. Her mind knows no bounds and she almost reads better than many kids several years older. There is no doubt in my mind she needed to come when she did, and that she was prepared for life as the youngest with a feisty will and an attitude that knows no bounds.

These are my flowers in the garden of our home. At times I feel as though the world is passing me by, especially when I see the grand accomplishments of others around me. When I begin to wonder "what could have been" I am promptly reminded by the Holy Spirit that I am doing precisely what the Lord needs me to do in the here and now: raise these little (and not so little) ones to not only shine and blossom and allow others to enjoy their beauty, but to make certain they are strong enough to withstand the storms and droughts of life. At times they may wither, and for a winter's season they may hide away, but there is always a spring just around the corner and the promise of newer, more beautiful ways to bloom.

My Big Lessons from 2011

Looking back on this last year does not fill me with joy. I don't know that I could count on one hand any super-duper moments that have left me saying, "Well, at least there was the time when...". Okay, okay. There were some great times, but even those great times came at a price.

For me, 2011 was a learning year, and there were some hard lessons being taught not only to me but also those I deeply love. It's made me think back to a dream I had a few years ago before my husband was called as a Mormon bishop.A woman had knocked on my door. I was late it getting to it and she was halfway down our walkway when a giant storm hit. I beckoned her to come in and be safe. My husband wasn't there, as he was out helping those in need, so it was my responsibility to care for and comfort our children and this woman whom we had taken in. The storm raged outside, but we remained safe. When the storm at last passed we looked outside to assess the damage. It was horrible. Our home, I noticed right away, had not been touched.

I am a firm believer that God gives us dreams at times as a way to warn, to comfort, and to give instruction. Almost four years later this dream has come to represent the roles my husband and I were to play as well as the promise that even through the storm our home and those in it would be kept safe. The last few years have tested and tried my husband and I in ways I never thought possible. Yet this year was different, for this year I found myself finally learning a few lessons from the things we've been asked to accomplish and endure.Here are some of the things I've learned.

1. Things don't always go as planned, and so we need to be flexible. I was invited to join a small group of women who worked to create a story for the local teenage girls in our area we are over. The story was truly inspired of God and I feel so privileged to have written it. We had planned to have it read at girl's camp in different sections each night. Things were coming together beautifully, and then life hit. The area we were to have camp had not dried enough from the previous winter enough to allow us entrance. It was horrible. Everything fell apart. We felt helpless, and even hopeless, as we tried to figure out what to do.

It was decided the camp needed to be split up into the different congregations (also called wards) and done on a smaller basis. At first those of us involved in the presidencies of the wards felt overwhelmed, but then the most amazing things began to happen. Stories from all over filtered in about how little miracles were taking place in making sure camp still happened. In our own ward we not only had a place open up, but there were experiences which taught our girls the difference between being 'in' the world verses being 'of' the world in ways we leaders could never have hoped to help them learn. We discovered what it truly meant to bend our own desires to the will of the Lord.

2. Just because it's down on paper doesn't mean that's how it'll go. A big part of being in a presidency - no matter whom you may be over - is the ability to plan ahead. It rarely does any good to talk about doing things without writing them down and planning them out. Our ward Young Women's presidency has taken this to heart. Every other month or so we try to get together to make plans for activities and things over the coming months. We were feeling especially good about this just a few months ago as we managed to plan for a half year of weekly activities. On paper we looked major organized and on top of things. Once again, life hit. Nothing we'd planned happened. There were three deaths in a matter of three weeks in our ward. As my husband is the bishop it became his responsibility to be over these funerals - which not only take up a lot of time but is physically and emotionally draining.

At this same time other crazy things were happening to the members of our presidency. One woman had to have surgery. Another was desperately looking for a job. And another ended up having her baby almost 6 weeks early. We were unable to accomplish so many of the things we'd planned. It was frustrating and discouraging. Several activities in a row had to be cancelled. Many times over I had to remind myself it was not the end of the world.

3. If you don't make the time for spiritual things, you'll never find the time. The older our kids get the crazier our schedules become. The kids get home from school and immediately want some down time playing games or spending time with friends or being on the computer. Dinner time comes and then the dishes need to be washed. Afterward is homework until it's done, an act which (depending on the child) can take hours. Soon enough it's bedtime. What was missing? Scripture reading. We used to be fantastic when it came to reading the scriptures. It was every night right after dinner. But soon we were hit with youth activities for M and myself, my husband being called out at all hours for ward members in need, and scouts for the boys. It didn't take long, I am sorry to say, for us to get out of the habit. All of these things are good things we're doing, but we've been failing in our home, and that is one place we cannot afford to fail.

Of course, finding the time to make it happen means sacrifice. Maybe friends or computer time or even homework will have to wait for something far more important and far more fulfilling.

4. If we don't take care of ourselves, the Lord will make us. In my last post I wrote about my husband being sick. We didn't realize just how sick he was until the next day at work when he noticed one of his legs began to hurt just to walk on it. He lifted up the leg of his pants to find the front of his calf red and swollen. Being a diabetic he knew it was necessary to get it checked out immediately, as the feet and legs are typically the first things to be affected. Later that day we found out he had an infection called Cellulitis, one that is fast acting and usually manages to place it's victims in the hospital on an iv drop. We had caught it early enough so a trip to the hospital was not necessary, but it did mean he needed to stay off of his leg for about a week.

Those who know my husband will quickly realize how torturous that was for him. He is a physically active man and does not take kindly to being kept down. I had to chuckle, however, as the same comment kept coming from family and friends: "I'm so sorry he's sick, but at the same time I'm glad he gets to rest." My husband will work himself to exhaustion doing all he can for Heavenly Father's children. Though he hated being made to sit down and do nothing for several days, it was obviously needed. And if he wouldn't do what was necessary to allow his mortal body to rest so he might still be of service, the Lord made certain he did.

5. People have to go through tough times. They just do. And sometimes the hardest thing we can do is let them. I have watched so many of our beloved friends and ward members go through excruciating things in the last year. All I have wanted to do was make it better. I wanted to bring them into my home and out of the storm. If there was a way to make the pain go away I wished for it to happen. But that is not the Lord's plan. I know this. I've known it most of my life. I know and understand it more and more as the years drift by. Yet knowing it does not make watching others learn it easier. I cannot take their pain away, but I don't have to. The Lord all ready suffered for it. I can, however, take them in my arms and help support them when it gets too hard to hold themselves up. And this leads me to the greatest lesson I've learned this year.

6. We have to trust in the Lord, and faith is key. All the knowledge in the world does us no good when it comes to putting the things we've learned into action. More than once this year have I found myself at the end of my rope, unable to give, with no idea what to do next. It has been at these points where I have had to lay all the problems down at the feet of the Lord and say, "Help." And He has. I have found peace when needed. Fears and troubles have been placed at bay so I might continue on. When I have been weak and unable to stand on my own two feet He has been there to lift me up.

I have found myself needing to trust in Him more than myself, but also trust He will work His works through me. It's difficult for me to express all that this means to me, nor the intricacies of the knowledge this brings. I cannot begin to tell you how humble I feel, knowing the difference between how much I can do on my own and how much I can do with Him. My faith has grown this year.

I am happy to leave behind 2011. It was not an easy year. Yet I would not trade anything that happened it in for easier times. If I were to do that I would lose all the blessings and knowledge I have gained. For this I am grateful to a loving Father and Brother who have been by my side over the last twelve months...well, really my whole life. While I pray for a time of peace in 2012, I know if this is not meant to be I will still be okay in my little house, regardless of how the storm may rage.

Changes

The new school year always brings about huge changes. It involves getting back into a new, or even old, routine. I'm not just talking about the changes made for the children who attend school, but also for those of us left here at home.

My youngest, Miss A, has had a summer filled with her two brothers and big sister. Her Mama (that would be me), has been kicked off the computer for several months until the later hours of the night as the children seem to think they need electronics to while away so many hot, muggy hours. The house has been noisy, messy, and gloriously filled with the laughter of my children.

Now we're bored here at home. Little Miss A and I are aaaaall alooooone. I know, your heart is just breaking for us ;) Miss A has been adjusting to having the television all to herself, as well as the freedom to bring in all her toys and play with no worries a well-meaning brother might pick one up and run off in an effort to "have fun" with his baby sister. She kinda really likes being able to have Mom all to herself (even if Mom spends a lot of time on the computer).

Okay so maybe it's me that's bored. Well, hmm. If I have to admit it there's PLENTY to do around here, but none of it sounds even remotely fun. Add to that the need to get up at six in the morning when I'd much rather sleep 'till about eight or so, and I'm having a hard time adjusting as well.

I miss my kiddies. Though they can occasionally drive up the proverbial wall, they are my heart. I love laughing with them, doing things together, seeing their faces light up when I suggest going to the library or over to Toys R Us to look around. I miss having an hour or so together read Percy Jackson, or another book, together.

Now when they all get home from school it feels a bit like chaos. Everyone wants to talk at the same time. They're starving and absolutely MUST get a snack - which always seems to turn into an almost meal - and will pounce on the chance to get back on my..uh..our computer. Dinner becomes a rushed affair and right after is homework. By the time we all get a chance to really sit down and enjoy one another, it's almost bedtime.

Still, changes are good for us, and my children really do blossom through their experiences with teachers, friends, and even those who are not so much friends. I think it makes us all recognize what a blessing we have in our little home of love, where arms are always open, snacks about, and Mom and Dad are ready with hugs before bedtime.

What Does Your Body Language Say About You?

I went grocery shopping this morning, not an unusual occurence. While there I was doing a little "people watching" as I went up and down a few isles, and one particular woman caught my eye.

She was heavier in her build, long, dark hair pulled back into a ponytail. Her skin looked fair and healthy, though her features held no expression whatsoever. But what really spoke volumes on how she felt was the way she stood.

Her shoulders were hunched forward and slumped down. Her head was also bent forward, as though afraid to glance up on the chance someone might actually notice her standing there. Every movement was small, hesitant. I wanted nothing more than to go over, take her shoulders, and push them back a little. I wanted to tip her chin up and raise the corners of her mouth to create a hint of a smile. Those three things would have made a world of difference.

I wondered how I looked as I walked through the store. I'm also heavier in my build, my long, red hair pulled back in a ponytail. This is where the similarities between the two of us ended. Though my skin may not be flawless I typically have a smile on my face. I prefer to keep my head up and shoulders pulled back as it helps my posture. And those three things perhaps make a load of difference in how I am perceived.

How do you think you are perceived? How do you hold yourself when you're out in public? Is it different from how you hold yourself when at home?

Just an observation :)