Yesterday was my last day at a company I’ve worked for since I was 25.
I’m 31 now. A lot has happened in those years, of course. Over half a decade of life. I got married. Bought a flat. Travelled to dozens of countries. Divorced. I grew as a person, as a writer, as a human.
Last days are always strangely anti-climatic. You spend years going to the same place, with the same people, using the same mug, loading it in the same dishwasher…then all of a sudden it stops. You hand in your security pass, they wipe your profile off the company IT system, you walk out of the door and never go back.
Done. Chapter closed.
Life goes on. My new job starts on Monday. I’m feeling good about the change.
In other news, I wore a crop top in public for the first time in my life last week. This was a huge deal for me. All my life, I’ve been really insecure about my tummy because it’s where I store fat and the Western beauty standard for women is to have a flat stomach. If it wasn’t terribly socially unacceptable, I’d rather have my vagina out than my tummy. Honestly!
For the last couple of years I’ve been on a crucade of self-acceptance and amazingly, it’s working.
I still struggle with insecurities and low self-esteem sometimes. Luckily my partner is very good at making me feel beautiful. For the first time in my life I don’t feel ashamed of myself. I feel strong, fit and beautiful. By no means am I skinny, or anything like the beauty standards perpetuated by popular media. But I have my own thing going on, and I’m happy with that.