What is beauty? Who determines who and what is beautiful? Why does it feel so important to be beautiful?
Haven't we all asked these questions or heard some speaker try to answer these? I feel like I get the mom response from them though, "it's not whats on the outside that counts, it's whats on the inside that really matters." Yes this may be true, but don't we all think the same thing, "oh man I must be not be beautiful, or else my mom wouldn't say the 'whats on the inside counts line,' or 'she's my mom she has to say that,' right? This is the case for me at least, and this is how I feel about beauty concerning myself, my culture and my future.
Growing up my sister was what I wanted to look like, actually what most woman want to look like, tall, blonde, curves in all the right places, perfect smooth hair and style. I for one don't fit this picture at all, especially not when I was a teenager. I always felt like I lived in the shadow of her beauty. I was the "funny one" but isn't that what girl who aren't beautiful do to be noticed. To say "hey yeah my sisters gorgeous but look at me (or at least hear what I have to say.)" Humor is a little bit of a guard I have that makes the awkward go away or lessons the pain of reality. But back to the focus, beauty, my sister isn't someone who I'd consider overly confident in her looks. Isn't this the sad reality that the beautiful girls never see there beauty. Some show fake modesty concerning their looks, but not my sister, I still don't think to this day she knows how beautiful she is. So coming up to present day, my sister lives out of town and when she moved away I felt like the shadow lifted. Don't get me wrong I love my sister dearly and miss her like crazy! But all the sudden I wasn't living with someone I daily compared my hair, stomach, and butt too. I know how shallow I sound, but if you are honest with yourself you probably have a person in your life you do the same thing to, even if she's on TV or movies. So I started feeling like I was thin enough and even embraced my hair more once I learned how to do it. This is how I've defined beauty for as long as I can remember then I got pregnant...dun dun dun.
This is where things start to change, as did my body of course. I suddenly wasn't confident in the skin I was in, understandably so when you gain 60 pounds in 9 months. My husband loved my new curves but I didn't care, I felt disgusting. I would ask my hubby if I looked this way to him and he was offended that I would even use this word to describe myself, but this is truly what I felt I looked like. The day I ripped my maternity jeans was a new low, that I don't know if I've gotten out of completely yet. But the whole time I was pregnant I was holding onto the hope that I would turn out like my mom and sister after their kids, super thin with few stretch marks. But to my horror after I had my beautiful baby girl, I looked down and saw that this was not going to the case. My legs had always been a vain point in my life, and they will never be again, I look and see that while I was pregnant a wild animal wrecked havoc on my thighs and hips! If I ever find this animal it better run! (See how I use humor to cover my pain?) But seriously, I was devastated! Everyone kept telling me that I looked great for just having a baby, but I never believed them. I mean granite I did look better, but I wan't myself and this broke my heart. I love my baby and would never change that part of my life, this is just me sharing how hard it is to have your definition of beauty rocked. At 3 weeks postpartum I started exercising, thinking that I have to get this weight off and get it off now! The weight is a constant reminder of all the pain I went through and the trauma it left me with. I want it gone and to never come back, the weight reminds me of how it felt to live at 200 pounds on my 5'4" frame. It reminds me that I'm not beautiful.
Today I'm 9 weeks 1 day postpartum, I'm done feeling sorry for myself. Done feeling like I have to live up to standards that aren't attainable for my body. Done feeling like I'm not good enough, not worthy for my husband to touch because of the ripples on my unperfected body. I'm done not feeling beautiful! I'm redirecting my focus of beauty, not the mom version but my version. My beauty is my smile that shines on the people I love, my hands that pick up my crying daughter, my breasts are the safe, warm place my husband lays his head at night, in my hair that holds only the color I was created to have. My beauty is held in how much I value the body that has been given to me, and it holds as you can see great value to me.
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