Mirror, Mirror

When I sat down to write today, I had no idea where I was going to go with this week’s GBE topic. Yeah, I know I chose the topic. But I’ve never chosen a group topic by thinking, Ooh, I know what I want to write about! I’ll pick that! So, I’m just gonna put my fingers on the keyboard and see where I end up—kinda like the road trip my husband and I have said we’re going to someday take where we just say, okay, left at the next corner, right at the corner by that big red barn, this exit, that bridge up ahead. Never mind the destination, let’s just play it by ear.

Ready? Seatbelt buckled? Got some snacks? Okay, let’s do this!

My first thought about beauty is that despite Photoshopped glossy magazines and TV commercials featuring 23-year olds touting skin cream (gee, they really do have such a youthful glow!) trying to convince us otherwise, it has no age parameters. Beauty doesn’t require flawless skin, sparkly eyes, abs of steel, and a luxurious mane. There’s nothing wrong with those things, but even if we’re talking only about physical attractiveness, they’d add up to a very small slice of genuine beauty.

Babies and young children are beautiful. That’s pretty universally agreed upon, even among people who don’t want any of their own or even enjoy spending time with other people’s little ones. And very old people? Gorgeous! Deeply lined faces, hands spotted and gnarled, eyes that have softened through years of witnessing and experiencing both the pain and the joy of living. I’m guessing we can all look there and see beauty.

But what about the great span between our first years and our last? It’s there when we’re inclined to look harshly at ourselves and others, and it’s there where we spend most of our lives. Too much this. Not enough that. Go ahead and fill in the blanks with the things you’ve thought about yourself. About others. This could take a while. I’ll wait.

How’d that go? Yeah, same here.

Sure, we’ve been sold a bill of goods, but why did we buy it? I’d like to tell you I’ve never fallen into that trap, but I spent decades (DECADES!) of my precious life letting numbers—the ones on the scale and those on little tags sewn into my jeans—tank my spirit. I once had a pair of itty-bitty white jeans that I adored. I held on to them for years, and every year as seasons changed and I packed away winter clothes and unpacked summer ones, I’d come across those jeans, hold them up, and feel like shit. They fit perfectly when I was 17. For reasons that make no sense to me now, I chose to repeatedly give myself a hard time rather than celebrating the reasons those jeans no longer fit. I’d had three babies in 18 months. Three gorgeous, healthy babies who were answers to long-held prayers. And when those babies got a little bigger, I loved baking with them. But those jeans! Those damn jeans!

Crazytown.

My maternal grandmother was one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever known. I never once heard her speak of her looks, positively or negatively. I honestly believe her life and her mind-space were so full of loving, nurturing, and serving others that she would have found the notion of fretting over wrinkles or graying hair or decade-old clothing that no longer fit to be ridiculous. And of course, she’d have been right.

I’ve grown kinder to the woman I see in my mirror. Thankfully. Finally. I’ve always liked her. Always loved her. But for far too long, I’d looked at her and saw too much this, not enough that. Do you know what I see now? I see my grandma’s white hair, my mom’s chin, a mouth that has spoken words of love and reassurance, hands that have brushed both worry and fevers from the foreheads of my children and grandchildren, arms that have held loved ones in moments of great happiness and deep sorrow, a body that was blessed to grow and feed tiny humans, legs and feet that have carried me through countless miles of life, largely without complaint. And eyes that are beginning to soften from years of witnessing and experiencing both the joy and pain of living.

I couldn’t be more grateful.

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(GBE Topic #5: Beauty)