If I could renovate me...

I would love to be able to say that, given the chance to make a new and improved version of the girl my father lovingly dubbed "Jenerella," I'd opt not to change a thing. But that would be a cop out. In the real world, I'd buy the wonderfully updated model quicker than Paris Hilton whips out Daddy's Visa. Assuming the new me cost less than a very small fraction of a percent of Miss Hiltons healthy trust fund. Unless of course the new me came with Paris' wardrobe, including shoes. Because in that case I'd find a way to scrape together my entire life's worth and my first born which might add up to a whole percentage.

For the record, I'd never give up my one and only baby boy. He is one of the few things about my life I wouldn't change. And if I'm being honest, I'm not particulary envious of Paris Hilton or her life style (ok, maybe a little), and there are truly only a few things I'd wish to improve about myself. Those few things are really more of a spring cleaning than a complete renovation, so I'm happy really. And lucky to be so.

The most significant thing I'd change about me is my low self esteem. It is the barrier between myself and a healthy romantic relationship. It causes gaps among my friends. It creates distance in my family. And it steals my accomplishments before I've begun to recognize them. I have no idea where this lack of faith in myself began, or how it manages to linger in my life like the smell of an over flowing diaper genie. What I do know is that I'm tired of it, and I'm working on it.

There are so many things in my life I could have written here. I could waste my wishes from a genie on something superficial like a million dollars; lord knows as a single mother I could use it. I might have asked a plastic surgeon to erase my stretch marks, and create firmer well toned thighs minus the cellulite. I could have pleaded with God to keep my son, who has already been through more in his short life than most of us, safe and healthy from now on.

But what I'd really love is to have my life. My perfect little boy and his perfect little messes and all the bumps and brises he'll aquire along the way. My long days with school, work, and home. My poverty stricken life with it's less than glorious pleading for child support and worrying about what I can afford to make for dinner. My body with it's stretch marks and extra inch and all the pain I have learned It is capable of enduring. All the times I feel lonely and afraid. I think I'll keep it.

I just wish I had the strength to be self assured along the way.