Why I Bought Myself Flowers… And You Should Too.

Why i bought myself flowers… and you should too.

I’m going to start this weeks (Self) Love Note with something a little selfish… I GOT A LITERARY AGENT! For my book project. I now have an agent. And she’s awesome.

OK. Let me move on. (And more on that later.)

I’ve always thought that flowers felt a little extravagant. Maybe that comes with years of buying blooms from the store, spending valuable money, and then having them wilt in just a few precious days.

In the last few years, I’ve gotten really into carnations. They are hearty. They come in beautiful colors. They last a long time and, bless their hearts, are pretty cheap. Which means you can spend $10 and get a large bouquet to overflow from a vase for almost two weeks. I can swing that.

But I will confess, I secretly love beautiful arrangements of flowers just the same. Standing gracefully. Leaning towards the sun. Colors from God. So special.

I mean. I don’t buy them. But man are they are pretty.

Many of you may know, I’ve been working on a self-love self-help book since 2019. Just last month, it was finally to a place where it was ready to go out into the world and look for representation.

In the publishing world, you can self-publish (which doesn’t require an agent) or you can go the route of something more traditional which requires agency representation. I went the later route, mostly because I wanted the credibility that comes with getting a book deal through a traditional publisher.

You see, I want a seat at the table. For US. For plus size women. I want us to have space in the world of self-improvement that isn’t tied to fat activism or dependent on diet culture. I want BODY REPRESENTATION in what it can look like to learn how to look your heard shit in the eye and live happier.

It’s not easy to get a literary agent. Experts say that a persons odds of getting a literary agent are one in 6,000. The odds of getting a book deal are even smaller – only 1 – 2% of authors will ever land a book deal. (I’m keeping my fingers crossed, OK?)

And ya girl here got one. And she's cool as f*ck.

I am SO proud I have gotten this far.

It is hard to keep sight of the fact that this is an accomplishment itself. Giving myself credit for any success has NEVER been easy for me --- is it easy for you?

But when all you really feel every day are the struggles, the uphill climbs, and the challenges... it can be REALLY HARD to actually ALLOW yourself to feel happy and excited? To even SEE progress? TO LET IT SINK IN?

Looking back on it now, I’ve never been really proud of myself. I have always waited on others to bestow that honor upon me.
My mother.
My father.
My partners.

And given the fact that pretty much all the dudes in my life have sucked at Words of Affirmation, I've found msyelf chasing praise from people who naturally had a hard time giving it.

I remember, recently, when going through a really hard time, I found myself choking back tears once, asking my lover and my best friend – the man who was my primary partner – if he was proud of me. “Do you believe in me?” I had asked.

I needed him to believe in me in order for me to believe in myself. And, when his answer was “Yes, but ---” and included a qualifier, I accepted it. Of COURSE there should be qualifiers for me to be proud of myself? Duh.

I can see now that he was wrong.

The ability to feel proud of your accomplishments and feel GOOD about what you do should never be qualified. And, it should burst forth from you like a song.

I’m still working on learning to sing this one loudly for myself. (Grin)

And so the other day, when I was sitting at the table and thinking, REALLY thinking about just how far I’ve come, I thought I deserved to celebrate myself a little.

I’m not the pretty girls on social media in beautiful outfits.
I’m not a woman traveling to exotic destinations and smiling, amplified by filters.
I don’t get free things from brands arriving at my doorstep.
I’m not making tons of money – hell, I’m literally just getting by right now.

But, I am proud of me. I am so proud of me. I am proud that I am taking my perception of self BACK. I am proud that I using my voice. And, you know what? I’m proud that I’m a talented writer.

My life is flawed. Messy. Unique. Vulnerable. And I am learning how to be proud of it, at myself, exactly how it is and on MY terms.
We live in a world revolves around your feeling LESS than you are. So I am decided to stop, for just one moment, and really allow myself to celebrate me.

I bought myself some flowers. No, it wasn’t practical. No, they probably won’t live a long time.
​Who cares? They are beautiful and they will be mine.

I picked out what made my heart sing. And in just a few days, they will be sitting on my table, all graceful and gorgeous, to remind me that I am allowed to be happy with myself.

I am allowed.

And… I am.

Consider this your reminder.., that YOU TOO are allowed! You can GIVE YOURSELF PERMISSION to feel pride and joy and happiness for your victories, large and small.

No qualifiers. Just because you are you.

And that is enough.

xo
Sarah