I couldn’t help but nod my head in agreement to the struggles written on this page and to the sheer joy that people showed in finding the beauty that has always been within. I once saw a mural of a beautiful bouquet of flowers with the phrase “If you are confident, you are beautiful.”  I used to think I would be beautiful once I hit a certain weight, but what makes each of us beautiful is the confidence that is within us. The belief that we are worthy and capable of anything can empower us to do anything. My beauty cannot be defined by the complexion of my skin, the color of my hair, the shape of face, or my weight. I am beautiful because I am unique and confident that the Lord will finish the good works he has started in me.

I come from a family in which much emphasis is put on appearance, and we also love food. This, among other things, led me to feel constant self-doubt about how I was appearing to others, which made me feel very empty and anxious, which made me want to eat. A LOT. The level of discomfort with my insecurity and compulsive behavior built to a point that it seemed I had no other option but to turn within. Then, when I discovered my heart, I had an experience of my beauty. It is very difficult to put into words. This gave me strength. I began to trust myself again and let go of my compulsion,and began to love what I felt and what I saw in the mirror. Now, and for many years, I am freer. I always look into my eyes. Some days I don’t completely love what I see, especially when I am angry or tired and my radiance is harder to access.
I also learned about my beauty from men who love(d) me. Their reflections of me, the desire they showed for my softness and my strength and the value they placed on them, in addition to their rejection of my defensive self-hate of specific body parts, had a profound impact on me and I thank them all for what they have brought out and witnessed in me.
I do not want to put any energy into hating myself. I have far better ways of using my time and energy. I hope that as I continue to age I can find and emulate models of women who are comfortable with aging naturally, who don’t buy into the need to “fix” what is natural. I don’t like needles or knives, but as a product of the culture, I also do not love sagging and wrinkles (YET) and I think it is difficult to face death. But I am not really afraid of grieving, and I think that has a lot to do with shifting attitudes about aging.
I am posting here as a proclamation to myself and others that I am serious about finding beauty in my body and face as it changes and I am interested in connecting with other women who are willing to let go of the ridiculous pressure to be a certain way and instead discover meaning in their bodies other than as tools for commerce and sex. I hope the conversation continues . . .

Check out more of Blair here!

It’s difficult for me to say what beauty is. I don’t have the ability to think people are ugly and I never have. I never understood in High School why people were made fun of because of their facial structure and I sure as heck don’t understand it today. The beauty lies in the differences The beauty lies in the personality I am beautiful because I have chosen that path for myself!

I’m sure my story is much like everyone else’s. There have been times in my life when I have felt awkward, clumsy, and unattractive. I was either “too ______” or “not ______ enough.” Insert whatever word into those blanks you can think of and I probably agonized over it. All of that fretting over feeling like I didn’t live up to societal standards of beauty became…exhausting. I just wanted to be happy. So instead of focusing on what was not, I focused on what was. When I work out, I think about being healthy and strong, not about having six pack abs. When I put on make up, it is to highlight my beauty, not to hide my flaws. Strangely enough, those things I originally considered unattractive became attractive. Sometimes, they were even my best attributes.

I am beautiful.  I get up and walk around in the world, and I even look people in the eye as I pass them on the sidewalk.  I’m getting better at it every day.  I used to be a nothing girl from a dried and dead coal mine in the middle of nowhere, but I saw colors everywhere.  Then, I grew two perfect little people inside the hollow of my womb.  I fed them and held them and they are precious diamonds on the bleak face of a mean world.  Because of me, my girls are healthy and happy.  Because of my strength and beauty, the world holds something good, forever.  I am beautiful because I’m Mommy.

I constantly compare myself to others–my friends, the girls I see on the street, even my mom. I set impossible standards for myself and then chastise myself for falling short. No matter what I do, I’m not good enough. I don’t appreciate myself. I’m not pretty enough, not graceful enough, not kind enough, not helpful enough.
I’ve never had eating disorders, or injured myself purposefully. But I tear myself down every day and I don’t believe it when people tell me I’m beautiful.
But I am.
I am beautiful because of my personality. I passionately love other people.
I love my freckles.
I love it when my eyes catch the light and sparkle green.
I love my ability to see differently than any other person in the world. I love the photographs I take and how creative I am.
I love my too-wide smile with crooked teeth.
I love the way I help my friends.
I love the way I show others God’s love.
I love the way my heart years to have purpose.
I am beautiful, and I am learning it, slowly. I am learning to get past thinking my body is not sexy enough, or that I’m a bad friend.
I am learning to accept myself and embrace who I am– because no one on earth is just like me. I am completely unique. This is what makes me beautiful.