Being Beautiful

I was never the pretty one. I was not identified with words like pretty, beautiful or cute by my parents. Grandma called me all the wonderful things, I believed her. When she died, so did those words of affirmation.

Crazy frizzy curly dark brown hair, uni-brow of wonders, braces at one point, no fashion sense, talent-less with makeup, growing nose of power, and no sense of purpose.

If you ever have the chance to see my sisters, they’re quite pretty girls. People noticed that, told them often, and didn’t notice that they didn’t tell me. I just lived that way, it wasn’t painful, it was just how it was. My sisters are pretty, my mom is pretty, I just thought I was not.

I was 16 the first time I had to face being called beautiful (since Grandma) by someone that I was inclined to believe. He made me wonder if I was, because he simply wouldn’t let me think otherwise. When he died, the wonder faded back into whatever it was before.

It wasn’t until I was 20 that I met someone who made me wonder again. He gave me the space and the nurturing to believe in many things. I found out that I was a singer, a good one. I found out that I get to have a different opinion from people and still be loved. I found out that I am a good parent, who can make bad parent choices and we’re all gonna be ok. He has spent the last 20 years telling me that I am beautiful. Wonder became hope, hope to trust, trust turned into cautious belief.
When I had children, I learned the power of words of affirmation, and they did too. My children never wondered if they were beautiful, they knew. They learned that being gracious is not being conceited, and complimenting others is the most beautiful thing.

So in my 30's, I decided to work on outer me, and I straightened and dyed my hair, shaped my eyebrows, started looking at fashion magazines, figured out some makeup strategies, embraced by big French nose, and found my purpose. But none of those things made me beautiful, those things are a result of feeling beautiful, feeling secure, and feeling loved. I do the pretty girls things now because I want to.

Sometimes, when people tell me I’m pretty, I still really don’t know how to accept it. To be honest, I don’t always believe it. But I am working on it. I try to be gracious and say thank you, but it's still hard. Now, I try very hard to not think of myself as the awkward, insecure, curly frizzy hair girl… and it’s getting better because I’m learning that she was actually pretty too.