Although men are freely allowed (and encouraged) to read this blog, this one today is for all my girlfriends out there.

Self-Esteem. What is it, exactly?

The dictionary defines self-esteem as “belief and confidence in your own ability and value.”

We all believe in ourselves, don’t we? At least now and then?

Then why are we always so hard on ourselves?

Went away for a weekend with the family. Had a wonderful time. Friends, family — there’s nothing like that in the world. I believed in my own worth. My own value. As a mom, a friend, and a grandma.

Then I got a look at myself in a family photo. 

Who in the hell was that?

We all feel good about ourselves until we are reflected in 3D.  All of a sudden we become our too-wide eyes, our Rubenesque figure, our complexion or our wrinkles or our hair.

How quickly our “self esteem” plummets.

I wonder if guys ever go through that. 

I doubt if their Earthly image is often compared to thin, busty, smoldering eyes beauties. If they notice that most movie stars, rock stars, artists and models are thinner, have more perfect jawlines or skin tone, or have killer white teeth and great smiles.

Yet women are constantly held to that standard.

Yes, the playing field of women has widened through the years. There are beautiful plus size ladies, ladies with moles and wrinkles and less-than-perfect skin.

Yet somehow they pale in comparison with the world’s ideal woman.

I’ve gone through this rigamarole all my life. You would think at 71 I would be done comparing and wondering and belittling.

But self-esteem is something that is messed with from the very beginning.

I know I’m a great mother, a great granny. I am a supportive friend, a kooky conversationalist and a half-decent writer. I am supporting, loving, and inquisitive.

I’m working on that being enough.

The photo made me realize that I do need to work on this body if I’m to see 72. I get that. THAT I can work on.

The rest — I’m working on that, too.

How about it, girlfriends? Have you 100% got this self esteem thing handled? 

Or are you your own worst critic?