I Am Beautiful

There is a number by which I define myself. It isn’t a pretty number. There is no symmetry to it, nor does it have any symbolic meaning.  It does have power, though.  Every time I step on the scale, the number that I read determines the type of day I am going to have.  Not only does it make or break my day, it also is the number I use to set my value.  I allow that number to dictate every part of my life.  I think my friends will like me better the smaller that number is.  I will bring more value to the company for which I work if that number never reaches certain digits.  I become less worthy every time that number rises. 

There is a second number by which I define myself.  This one is much smaller yet again, there is no beauty or symmetry or meaning in that number.  It does have power, though.  I look at the tag in the back of my jeans to determine if I will have a date in the near future.   I look at that tag to get a read on how people feel about me.  That tag can make or break a smile in an instant.  That tag is hated or loved based on what it says, and in turn, when I hate the tag, I’m not overly fond of myself.  When I love the tag, suddenly I am beautiful and confident and worth something.

Often, I am surprised when I am invited out by friends and the reason is that they just want the pleasure of my company.  It catches me off guard nearly every time.  It’s like perma-surprise.  I offer to bring cookies or a blanket or something, and marvel when they say, “No, just you.  We like you.” 

I look in the mirror to fix my eyes and my hair.  I check to make sure that everything is where is supposed to be.  Then I spend some time wishing my skin weren’t so pink and that my eyes were only one color.  I lament my nose and the imperfections that arrive on my face with every year that passes.  I see the weight I carry and wish it would visit other areas of my body.  I wish it would stop loving me so much and just go away already.  I see tall, taller than the average woman, and alone in my bathroom I am okay.  But stand me next to a petite woman and suddenly I am Amazon. 

Why am I so focused on myself anyway?  The measure of my heart cannot be found in a number.  Neither can my kindness or my intelligence or my affection or my talent.  Why is it that I struggle to see myself outside of the measure of a scale? Why can I not just be who I am without the angst of wanting less of me or a prettier me or a different me than me? 

I’m working on that.  I’ve been working on that for a while now.  A good friend of mine and I were talking about resolutions.  It was months ago so please understand this is not prompted by a need to fill space around the holiday or beat the subject of New Year’s Resolutions to death.  Anyway, she said that a few years ago she decided to make no more resolutions but that she would simply live a life she believed in. A life she believed in.  Instantly I was captivated.  What did I believe in?  How could I live my life that way?

I made a list.  My list is not complete, I don’t think, but I have a good idea of what motivates me and what I want out of this life. The piece of that I’ll share with you today is this:  I believe that I am beautiful.  I believe that beauty is determined by many things outside of perfect skin and excellent measurements and bleached teeth and I believe that I possess those beautiful qualities.  I measure myself by my heart and my Spirit and my love, not by my numbers.  This is probably the biggest struggle of my life yet I will conquer it.  I am conquering it.  I have conquered it.

I am beautiful, and that is enough for today.   

 

Advertisements

6 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. Martie
    Jan 16, 2013 @ 08:18:59

    Yes, my dear sister, you are beautiful. When I see your face, there is nothing I would change. Because you’re amazing (amazing), just the way you are.

    Reply

  2. Auntie Anne
    Jan 16, 2013 @ 08:31:58

    When you’ve lived long enough that the people who are happy to see you coming are numberless, that’s a very fine “number”. Looks as if you’re getting there!

    Reply

  3. Freddie
    Jan 16, 2013 @ 08:38:26

    Yay! You are beautiful inside and out. I would even go so far as to say that the most beautiful I’ve ever seen you was on a day that you didn’t doll up your hair or put on your makeup. You were so happy and content that day, and I wish I could see that you more often. Im happy with any “you” I get though, so I’m glad that you’re acknowledging how beautiful you are…finally! Love you!

    Reply

  4. Madre
    Jan 16, 2013 @ 08:44:34

    You are not just BEAUTIFUL, you are a rare jewel. Smile my darling daughter and love your life and it will always be worth living and blessed.

    Reply

  5. studiobukowski
    Jan 16, 2013 @ 15:05:26

    I think you are beautiful inside & out but I thank you for sharing because I think a lot of us women feel that way about ourselves

    Reply

  6. Lynn Clark
    Jan 16, 2013 @ 21:00:40

    Your harsh self analysis is a common female habit. Wonder why not males? We don’t hear so many adults telling toddler boys they are pretty, or complimenting them on their hair, clothes, etc. Somehow we leared approval went hand-in-hand with our looks. They were wrong. And you are right. You are beautiful. I am not related to you, yet I have seen you several times. But most important I have seen the results of other people’s associations with you. They have been blessed by knowing you. They are happier for being around you. That makes you beautiful.

    Reply

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: