It has taken me over 30 years to see that beauty is more than what is on the surface. To notice myself in the mirror and see beauty instead of flaws. To feel beautiful.
I look at my daughters.
Their beautiful eyes. Their beautiful spirits.I pray that they will always know that they are beautiful inside and out. I pray that when they look in the mirror that they will see what the world sees. Not just their outward beauty but also the beauty that is their soul, their spirit, shining through.
Beauty is more than the clothes I wear or the skin I fit. I hope they know and understand that. I pray that the images that surround them everyday doesn’t break them down and beat them up. Tell them that beauty can only be symmetry and flawlessness.
There is so much beauty in the flawed and broken. Art in the scribbles and messes. I imagine that the lives of those who only see beauty in the perfect to be dull and boring and rather empty and sad. There is beauty in spilled milk and scribbled crayons, tousled messy hair and skinned knees.
There is beauty in my deflated breasts and protruding and saggy stomach for those are signs of a mother.
I birthed beauty.
Grew it inside my own flawed body and birthed it out to go forth into the world and flourish, making it more beautiful than it was before they came.