Dents

Laying in bed and the alarm goes off.  My hand somehow hits the off button as the red numbers blur and slowly come into focus - 5:30am. I reach down and caress the silky fur of my dog snuggled up close to my back. The sleepiest dog in the world doesn't stir, but lays comatose next to me.  The only indication she even knows I'm touching her is the slight thump of the tip of her tail on my bed.  She's so tired, she can't even wag the whole thing.  I feel ya, dog.

"Mornin' Deeogee" I mutter as I push my warm cocoon of blankets off me and put my feet on the floor.  Good Lord, it's early.  No one should have to get up this early. I shuffle over to the bathroom and drop my drawers before relieving myself.  I pull my night gown over my head and it falls to the floor.

I turn to face my bare reflection.  42 years old ... mascara smeared, hair a mess, boobs ... well, I swear they used to be higher. I put my fingers at the sides of my boobs, lift up and turn to see how my boobs would look if I ... hmm ...

Then, I see it.

I might have missed it if I wasn't lifting my boobs up and wondering if I should someday get a little lift ...

But, I didn't miss it.

I had a dent.

I ran my hand over my belly and it dipped slightly into the dent.  I could just put my hand it.  I swear that wasn't there yesterday.  And, in that small moment, it hit me.  The sacrifices I had been making and the exercise I had been doing was finally doing something I could really see on my body.  It made a dent ... literally.  And, I knew that if I could make that dent, I could change everything.

Moral of the story - don't pass by the small improvements you see on your body.
Look for dents!
They are good!

Challenge of the Day:
Love your dents! Until next time ...