Reflections - Beautiful or Perverse?

I recieved an email from a friend of mine today that spurred my very first blog. M - thanks for the inspiration. I have been kind of down since the guy I was dating told me I was "special" and then proceeded to jet across the U.S. to shack up for a week with his ex-girlfriend. It almost goes without saying that I feel much less "special" at this point in time. Almost. As usual I have been drowning my sorrows in my plethora of high quality alcohol, my higher quality friends and by throwing myself into my crappy job. Single men take note: You will be suffering for some other nimrods stupidity if you put the moves on a woman in this space...and there is no way to know it until you have had your ass handed to you by said scorned woman. So here I am in that space, feeling low and (the one thing that 99% of the female population feels at least once a month) fat. In typical fashion, I expressed these feelings of dispair to my friend. Here's part of his e-mail to me the evening after that conversation: (This is from my friend, not Mr. Happy Pants Jet-Setter) In his wonderful words of encouragement he says: "But look in the mirror (and don't see a cow), see the woman who is single handedly raising a great kid, who can still rock with the best of them at concerts, who can kick the ass of my friends in pool, and still have time for the occasional social life. That is one hell of a woman." And I wonder, "Who's right?" What do I look like to other people and why is that so different from what I see? I know that we all look in the mirror and critique the hell out of ourselves, because when you are close to something, you see it's imperfections. So how is it that my close friends see me and look past those? Do they love me more than I love myself? (There's another one for the couch doctor). Or do they simply not need to put me under the microscope that I turn on myself after being rejected? Does the general population see me as a cow with a Mom-tummy? (They may, but choose to keep that to themselves for fear of being pummeled to death by my meaty, crispy creme covered fingers) ;-) Have you ever wished you could put on those rose-colored glasses when you look at yourself?