Reflections Of Beauty
Author’s note: this blog was originally published in July of 2016. That sweet little three year old who inspired this piece is now approaching the big ONE THREE. How did that happen? She is still a beautiful, confident, lovely girl, but I have heard murmurs. Comparing, frustration, and making negative statements about her appearance from time to time. It comes with the teen territory, I’m afraid. As for me? Now that I’m in my 50’s, my body is changing in ways that I wasn’t at all prepared for, i.e., what the hell is going on with my neck? Even when I’m not tired, I look so tired, guys. But I’m digging deep for some DGAF around my appearance and, as always, using every tool in my self-care toolbox to get myself there…So I’m still a work in progress, but that’s okay.
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about beauty. They say it’s in the eye of the beholder. What about when you’re beholding yourself? When was the last time you looked in the mirror and complimented yourself? Would you even feel comfortable doing so? I know I wouldn’t, but I bet three year old Jen would. She wouldn’t have hesitated to smile at her own reflection and feel good about the little girl smiling back at her. Sadly, that confidence eroded over time. What happened? The world happened, I guess. Teenage Jenni was mortified at her own reflection, 20’s Jen was merely tolerant, Jennifer in her 30’s was less concerned about the flaws she found in her face, but rather, the growing concern about the shape of her body. Now that I’ve hit my 40’s, I would love to say that I laugh in the face of insecurity and have a bold new attitude, complete with body positivity and to hell with how I measure up to others. I would like to say that, but it’s not completely true. It’s a work in progress.
I’ve been thinking about beauty because I look at the little glowing face that follows me around all day and calls me mommy, and I think she is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. When she stands in front of the mirror, I say, “Are you looking to see how pretty you are?” and she giggles and says yes. She walks up to the full-length mirror in mommy’s bedroom, smiles at herself, then twirls around to admire the outfit she has chosen for the day and says, “Mia is pretty!” Yes, you are little darling. You are gorgeous. And confident, and happy, and smart, and funny, and full of piss and vinegar, as my grandmother used to say. And my heart breaks at the thought of her reduced to a puddle of tears 10 years down the line because she no longer thinks so. What can I do to prevent this? How do I encapsulate the sweet, innocent self-love that she exudes now, so that I can gift it to her on a rainy day?
I’ve been thinking that maybe it starts with me. I can show her that I do what I can to take care of my body. That I treat myself with respect. I can refrain from letting her hear me make negative comments about my own appearance or that of others. I can teach her that no matter what, you have to strive to be comfortable in your own skin because you know what? You have nowhere else to go. This is your face, this is your body, and you must love and cherish it no matter how often the world tries to tell you otherwise. They just want to sell you something. They want you to sit down, be quiet, and try to buy your confidence with their products, and live up to their made-up ideals. Don’t do that to yourself, my angel. You are perfect just the way you are. You decide your worth. Don’t compare yourself with other women. They are not your competition; they are your sisters.
I’ve been thinking that I can learn a lot from my little girl. She is who she is, feels what she feels, and tells it like it is. She likes herself. And why shouldn’t she? When I look at her, I can almost remember what it was like to be so pure, full of joy, and enchanted by the world. And when people tell me she’s beautiful, and in the same breath say that she looks just like me, I can take that to heart. I can start over. I can let her teach me about who I used to be, and who I can be again.
Don’t ever forget how beautiful you are. In case you ever need a reminder, the words of this beautiful, poet mama, Jenise Michele, are my gift to you.