I have a friend, who, in my eyes is nearly perfect. She is a tall, tanned, blond, blue-eyed beach babe with a figure to die for. Perfect 36-24-36. When I work out on the spin bike, sweat stinging my eyes, I imagine myself as her. She is my goal body. Yes, I put my face on her body. I pretend I am walking barefoot, like she does, on the Jersey shore, strolling past the boardwalk, jeweled fit flops dangling from my nicely manicured hand, wearing sparkling white shorts and matching top.

I have all sorts of fun as my friend. I imagine myself in Greece, walking the hills of the Acropolis, not struggling at all with the rugged terrain and the 104 degree heat. Because I am in shape and perfect in my sparkling white shorts and matching top. Life would be good as her. There wouldn't be many problems, how could someone have problems with a body like that? Okay, even if there were a couple of "problems", they wouldn't affect me all that much. How could they, I'd be feeling too good if I looked that good.

I spent a day with my friend last Saturday. An entire day with Ms. Perfect. We were hanging out poolside, sipping one too may colorful frozen drinks when she blurts out, "You know, I just hate my body. If I could only be 30 lbs. skinnier, I'd be so happy, Mary." I almost choked on my wooden umbrella. "30 lbs.?", I said perplexed, "you don't have 30 lbs. to lose." "Are you kidding me?!" She glares at me with the intense focus of a cat hunting her prey, "Look at this!", pounding a fist into her thighs, then pointing to her arms, stomach, butt, just about every body part except for her eyelids. "Look at this....this is huge, and here, this is really huge, and look, I could loose 10 lbs. here alone, look at this. It's just disgusting."

I promptly tell her she needs her head examined. I said, "If I looked like you Doreen, I'd be so happy." She quickly retaliates, "If I was 30 lbs. skinnier, I'D be so happy."

Then there was silence.
It was awkward.
It was pregnant.
It was...silent.

That's when I had an epiphany. I questioned my very existence. If I looked like my friend, would I want to be 30 lbs. skinnier, too? Well maybe, just maybe. You see, it has nothing to do with weight anymore, or size, or how good I look, or health for that matter, it has to do with me. Me, my friend and I. You and me and the friend I've come to know as Doreen. It's personal. It's a mindset. And it's called "miserable". Yes, there actually are women with curvaceous, gorgeous, glowing, healthy bodies that are miserable. Complaining, always wanting to be someone else. There she is. She is perfect and she is miserable. Could my perfect be someone else's misery? Could possibly my misery be someone else's perfect? And if so, when are we ever happy?

Just then, an overweight woman walks past us in a bikini. Cellulite flapping in the wind as she chases her 4 year-old. Belly hanging over belly, hanging over belly, hanging over bikini bottom. She lifted her daughter into the air and gave her a great big kiss. They were laughing and playing and eating. I mean this woman was just lovin' life. Bikini and all. She was curvaceous, even down-right overweight, but she didn't let that affect her at all. She was happy. Havin' a grand ole time. My first thought was, "Gee, I'd be so embarrassed to walk around like that if I looked like her." But then, on second glance, I noticed a confidence about her, a beauty. My God, she was beautiful. She was perfect. Her inner beauty was showing through every move. And then there was me and my friend; yes the friend I've come to know as Doreen, the friend with the 18% body fat, and me-- me who works out

2 hours a day 6 days a week-- we both are miserable--just having a pity party, complaining on life.

There was a lot to learn in that moment. I realized that there is miserable curvaceous and happy curvaceous. I realized that some of us will never be satisfied, no matter what weight we are. I realized that some of us could be happy no matter what weight we are. It's not the weight, it's you.

You can be a happy you, just by accepting the curves you own. Or you can be a miserable you, unaccepting of the curves you reject. Either way you choose, you are still you. As Billy Joel sings, "either way, it's okay, you wake up with yourself." So why not choose happy???

Yes, that day at the pool, with the little wooden umbrella in my drink, I've come to realize that happiness, self-love, is a choice. All you have to do is choose it.

I'm gonna choose Happy. He was always Snow White's favorite, too.

by Mary Dimino