I just returned from a short but unexpected stay at the hospital. I hated it. I had almost nothing to do but pick fights with Collin of Subjunctive Morality (whose latest blog post on abortion is cringe-worthy, I must add). The highlight of the last few days was when one really good-looking doctor told me that God loves me. It was little comfort at the time, but it was comfort all the same.
It’s kind of a milestone for me. Up till now, I’ve had difficulty identifying good-looking guys, let alone admitting to myself that I appreciate their looks. My classmates were doing that when I was 12. (I’ve been a late bloomer.) I’m pretty sure this doesn’t count as lust. I was not entertaining any unwholesome thoughts. I merely understood that he looked good and appreciated that fact, as I would if I saw a beautiful flower.
I just hope my body doesn’t start releasing estrogen every time I see a good-looking member of the opposite sex now. It would be hard to pick a good husband if my body doesn’t co-operate.