Here & there: This Valentine’s Day, go love yourself

Composite picture. Tattooed hand, location and date unknown. Heart cartoon used under CC0 | Photo of arm by Rushay Booysen via Scopio, St. George News
Slime, location and date unknown | Photo by Nevit via Wikimedia, St. George News

FEATURE — Ok, I’ll admit it: I’m a fan of Valentine’s.

I’m not only a fan of Valentine’s, but I am also a fan of Galentine’s, love, affection, connection and everything else of the sort. And I am all in to celebrate all of that. Hallmark or not. February 14th or not.

In the past, that has meant I’ve spent the early part of February concocting homemade lip balm, peppermint soaps, play dough, ooze, slime, farting slime, glitter slime and glow-in-the-dark slime because I wanted to teach my boys the art of sharing love.

And apparently my boys mostly speak love through sharing various types of slime with the people they love. Or the people in their classes. Which isn’t always mutually inclusive.

Somehow no one wanted to hand make anything this year. Instead, each of my boys has a special someone who is the focus of all their dedicated Valentine energy. Even the twelve-year old.

The girl he’s liked for the past twelve months confessed recently that his crush is reciprocal. He wasted no time planning to ask her to be his official Valentine. Which in sixth grade, basically means I’m not sure what.

He spent a solid week interviewing every adult he encountered about the best way to ask someone to be your Valentine. Some ideas were better than others. My advice: don’t go too big on the ask or you’ll create an expectation bigger than you can deliver for the actual Valentine.

He came up with an ingenious plan: a note and two color-coded candy bags.

The note went something like this, “M, Will you be my Valentine? From, G.” With a very important PS: “to answer, put one of these candies in my locker – orange for yes and blue for no.”

His thinking was that either way she answered, he’d still win. Because even a “no” meant he got a bag of candy. Smart boy.

For my part, even though no one wanted to hand make soap or slime this year, I’ve spent the last week delivering some lemon, rosemary and honeysuckle soaps I found at a local shop to friends and neighbors. They are stamped with the word “loved” so every time they use it, hopefully they will be reminded that they are loved. By someone.

I am also hosting a small Valentine’s brunch at my house this morning. Just me, my husband, my two boys who are still at home, and my sister. And heart shaped waffles, strawberries, homemade whip cream and heart-themed underwear for everyone.

My oldest sister is always included in our family Valentine’s celebrations. She is part of our family pod, a true sister to my husband and second mom to my boys.

She has never married. She doesn’t have children. And she doesn’t have a romantic partner in her life.

But this Valentine’s, she has more love in her life than she ever has. Because she loves herself more than she ever has.

Why do I say that? It’s all in the tattoos. Yes, you read that right: the tattoos.

She’s tattooed herself eight times in the last several months. At age 53.

Woman gazing at the ocean in black bikini, location unknown, March 22, 2020 | Photo by Emelie Shepard via Scopio, St. George News

Our mother clucked her tongue when she saw one or two of the tattoos peeking out over Christmas and said something to the effect of, “your younger sister is finally removing some of the tattoos from her body and you’re marking up yours with all of these now?”

Yep. That’s exactly what she’s been doing. Marking. Staking her space.

On the body that was supposed to be a mother and spouse and wasn’t permitted to do either.

But also, the body that has Ironmanned, triathloned, hiked Half Dome, and surfed countless times in the Pacific.

A body that has studied in Jerusalem, served as a missionary in Spain and travelled the world.

A body that squats big weight and now flashes in hormonal sweats.

A body that heals others. A body that loves others. A body that laughs loud and talks loud, too.

One tattoo at a time, she is laying claim to her body and her history. And with every tattoo, she seems to be loving herself just a little bit more. For all of the things that never were. For all of the things that are. And for all of the things that still could be. And it is the most beautiful thing to witness.

Because we are all deserving of love. Especially from ourselves.

Copyright St. George News, SaintGeorgeUtah.com LLC, 2022, all rights reserved.

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