I sit next to MB’s office. He’s a Steel City old-timer, been here all his life working in the oil and gas industry. He’s worked in the field all his life, wears jeans to the office every day (“because no one has told me I can’t”).

When cookies or candy or other sweets are involved, I compete readily with him. I can down 6 cookies in the blink of an eye. Yesterday he stopped by to chat, and we started talking about Reese’s peanut butter cups. He said he can eat an entire bag of the Reese’s pieces, and I said I would too except for my wariness about my waistline. He stared at me for a full 30 seconds in disbelief and told me that I am the size of a stick. I never deny that I’m in decent shape, but I know that my metabolism isn’t that of my 16 year old self, either. But MB asked me why all women are worried about this stuff. I conjured up what I usually say, some mish-mash about the media, and magazines, and models.

He said, “let me tell you something. When I look at a Monet painting, I think, that’s really beautiful. I think, I could look at this for a long time and think it’s beautiful, but inevitably, when I see the same thing every day, and the same type of painting at every turn, even the paintings that everyone consider extraordinary are going to get ordinary. So I don’t think people should be so concerned about their paintings looking like a Monet painting. Maybe they should just make their paintings look like their own painting.”

And that was the mind blowing wisdom I received yesterday from a guy who works out in the field.

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