I was never a beauty. At least, I have never considered myself beautiful. It didn’t matter that every time my grandpa saw he me would hug me and whisper in my ear how gorgeous I was. It didn’t matter that my parents and family thought I was pretty. I was never going to believe them. What the outside world said to me was far too loud. It was the outside worlds voice I heard and their words I made my own. If there is one little silver lining in this, it is that I never really put much stock on beauty in the first place. Because I knew I was never going to be the winner in a beauty contest I put my focus on other areas of my life that I could be the best at. Quickly and blessedly learning that beauty was only in the eye of the beholder. Instead of beautiful I became a quick thinker and fast talker. I spent my time reading and learning and developing opinions. I became me. And because I never valued my beauty over my brains I was lucky to not become a wall flower at school. I wasn’t one to quietly fade into obscurity and never be noticed. I was fortunate to find a boy who liked me just the way I was and who told me over and over again how beautiful I was. Too bad I wasn’t able to really ever believe him.
Now in my mid thirties I am still less inclined to hang my hat on my looks. I am more concerned with the content of my character than the wrinkles or pores of my face or the width of my hips. But, I am raising young women. Although they are only six and five a distinction has already been made between the ‘cute’ one and the ‘beautiful’ one. I cringe just typing that. And this distinction makes me uncomfortable. And leaves me wondering how I can raise my daughters to be women who hold less value in their looks than in their abilities?
Like my own parents, both my daughters are stunning in my eyes. I could never see them less. I know the same is true for my husband Steve. But I worry our voices will be lost to the louder voice of the outside world. I worry what sort of story and belief my daughters will come up with about themselves from listening to the outside world. I have no game plan or battle moves on how to fight the image war looming ahead with my daughters. I don’t know if turning off the tv more and looking at social media less is what we will do. I just know that I never want my children to feel their worth is tied to how they look in this life. It doesn’t matter if the outside world agrees with me and tells them how gorgeous they are. The content of their character is more valuable than the looks of their faces and the shapes of their bodies.
