I had a meltdown this morning. A photo triggered me. It was taken yesterday at the State Fair. He showed it to me this morning and as I looked at it, all I saw was what I wasn't – a sex bomb with boobs hanging out. I didn't see the amazing woman I am, all I saw was what I wasn't.

I don't even want to be a sex bomb with boobs hanging out, unless it's in the bedroom.

But those are the pictures my husband comments on in Facebook. He says things like, “perfect, yummy, scrumptious, you're a dream, I'd be in trouble if you lived in my town, etc.”

So when I saw this photo of us I knew he wouldn't be complimenting me, at least not like he does on so many women's photos.

I picked up my journal and began writing in it, then I began throwing it and screaming how ugly I am. I kept picking it up and throwing it down. Then I curled up in a ball on the bathroom floor and sobbed. He came over to me and asked what was wrong. He held me and told me I am beautiful and that I am not ugly.  He asked what I saw in that picture that caused my meltdown; what I was seeing that didn't see or notice.  I explained it to him.  He began telling me that this was a kick around picture, not a modeling picture.  He tried to make me see the reality of the situation and tried to help me feel better.

Why do I torture myself? I am torturing myself living in this world where I love him but tolerate his flirting and comments to other women. I look the other way and pretend it doesn't matter. But when I look at myself and in my mind I am comparing myself to all of these airbrushed women... that is torture.

The truth is, I am grateful I am me. I love how I look. I love who I am. I feel I have so much to offer others via my writing and my music and my health journey. But what I find is I get wrapped up emotionally in all of this crap and feel I don't have anything to offer.

That is a lie, and I know it.