Liking the Way You Look

My mom and I walked into an expensive boutique at the mall, she reigning in Afon so I could check out the price tag on a luxurious white linen blouse.

Not in the budget.  Ever.  

She was anxious to get out of there, and when I asked her why, she said, "We're not dressed to go into a store like that."

I looked down at my Hello Kitty t-shirt and trendy black skirt with my well-loved and stringy sandals and balked.  What did she mean we weren't dressed?

Truth is, I knew exactly what she meant.  The greater truth is that I just didn't care.  Not because I take no pride in how I present myself; I picked out that outfit with thought and did my hair and makeup with purpose.  It wasn't the type of outfit that screamed "I have money!"

But I thought I looked cute.  I liked the way I looked.

And I've worked too hard and too long to let a superficial store clerk, co-shopper, or anyone for that matter, take that away from me.

We're born with confidence, you see.  If you ask a three-year-old, "Can you draw--?" he will eagerly get down to it and be thoroughly pleased with the result.  Ask a ten-year-old the same thing, and suddenly it becomes, "I can't draw."  What she means is, she thinks she's no good at it.  Of course she can draw.  She might even be really good at it!  But how would anyone know?  She's shut the door on herself before she's even given a chance.

When and how did that transformation take place?

It happened to me, and it happens to many.  Maybe everybody.  I went from the Sleeping Beauty with long blond curls in dress-up to the shy, stooping adolescent who was so uncomfortable in her own skin, she actually wouldn't wear the clothes she liked and wanted to because she was convinced she didn't look good in them.

With and without makeup.

I lived like that for a long time and climbed my way out of the negativity only slowly and with great effort.  I guess I was pretty lucky (or looked out for) that I didn't develop an eating disorder or try to compensate with boys or drugs or alcohol.  

Today, I feel like I have a more healthy body image and most days, I like what I see when I look in the mirror.  Which is not to say that I don't feel frustrated at weight gain or the flab on the backs of my arms; but the prevailing attitude is one of acceptance, and even fondness.

And really, I have no right to complain.  It's extremely rude to go around insulting someone else's work/house/daughter.  God is the author of me, and God is my keeper.  He gave me bouncy soft curls, graceful hands inherited from my grandmother, the body type of a {Regency era country lady}, and a radiant smile.

Your turn!

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For further reading:

• {Ten Ways to Nurture Positive Body Image for Your Daughter} at Carrots for Michaelmas
• {After the Great Stretching}, a guest post on Call Her Happy