I feel beautiful.
I don't feel skinny or young or in shape. But I feel beautiful.
I know I am beautiful. I look in the mirror and I say "I am glad to be you today." This, of course, implies that I am more than this body and it is a privilege to inhabit these bones and muscles and to get to view this magical world through these eyes and this brain.
I'm writing about this because a post on fb I read this morning reminded me of how I used to believe whatever YOU believed about me to be true. The post said something like " my friend told me I was a six and I think he's right." I am paraphrasing, but the essence was that she was 'rated' on a scale of one to ten and basically agreed of her 'imperfect' number, etc...
So many things about this got me thinking.
Of course, it is hard to be told something obviously hurtful and not be hurt. But if you told me I was a bird or a plane, it would be easy for me to prove to myself I am not a bird or a plane. I know in the depth of my being I am not a bird or a plane. I am human. Duh.
But call me a 'Six' and you hit every nerve of low self-worth and low self-esteem, every time I have compared myself to magazine beauty. It might be a bit tougher to remember the truth of who I am. I am a perfect ME. Right now. Right here. At this weight, age, height, wisdom.
It truly is an inside job. Today, I felt suddenly aware that while I love you, I don't really give a shit if you think I am beautiful or smart or good enough. Because I am sure of these things about myself today. Maybe it is something that happens as i've gotten older. Life becomes more precious, and there is less time to waste on your opinion of me.
You are beautiful, but don't take it from me because it doesn't matter what I think.
Inward ho,
Amy
Wednesday, April 8, 2015
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