Beautiful

                                                                    Isn't she beautiful?

I read a poem a couple of months ago on one of those fabulous blogs written by witty, creative, uplifting, successful women. And I haven't been able to get it out of my mind since:

when your little girl
asks you if she’s pretty
your heart will drop like a wineglass
on the hardwood floor
part of you will want to say
of course you are, don’t ever question it
and the other part
the part that is clawing at

you

will want to grab her by her shoulders

look straight into the wells of
her eyes until they echo back to you
and say
you do not have to be if you don’t want to
it is not your job
both will feel right
one will feel better
she will only understand the first
when she wants to cut her hair off
or wear her brother’s clothes
you will feel the words in your
mouth like marbles
you do not have to be pretty if you don’t want to
it is not your job

~Julia Hubbell

And my heart did fall when I read this. Part of me screamed, "Yes!!" And part of me thought, "Why?"

I have never been what most would call a 'girly' girl. I don't wear pink, I only own 3 pairs of shoes, and the one time I got a manicure, I hated it so bad that I never got one again. So I can understand that there are lots of girls and women out there who have other things to worry about besides how beautiful they look.

Still, I am (usually) feminine. I hate creepy crawly things. I love Pride and Prejudice (book or 1995 BBC miniseries, please). And yes, I DO want to feel pretty.

I don't know that I believe that there is really a woman out there who doesn't want to be attractive - to her mate, to her own eyes, in order to get attention, just to feel good about herself. Maybe there are some who don't believe that they are attractive or could be, and so they've given up. But I can't wrap my mind around a female who truly, from her deepest and happiest self, with no influence from her past or outside sources, just doesn't want to feel beautiful. This is where a disconnect is happening for me. Because a thought keeps tickling the back of my mind saying, "But maybe those women are out there."

Of course, this could lead into a wholly separate conversation about what truly makes someone beautiful, and what those standards are in our society today. But that's not where my interest lies. I have honestly accepted that you can feel pretty, you can be attractive to someone else, you can be lethally beautiful to those who love you, without ever entering into the realm of outside looks or what the rest of the world judges as appealing.

But that doesn't mean that I don't sometimes wish to be judged as appealing, too.

Now, as a parent to a daughter, these concepts take on whole new, additional meanings. It exists outside my realm of understanding that a girl might sincerely just not want to be considered attractive. It's just not part of my experience in this lifetime.

What if my daughter feels that way?

Or does that completely miss the mark of what the poem is trying to say?

I thought there were ways to shore up a young girl's self esteem against the commercials and the models, and the barrage of self-hate that she will inevitably face as a teenager, and maybe beyond. I thought that if you made sure not to disparage your own looks and weight in front of her, if you told her always how beautiful she is, while making sure that she understands how little that matters in respect to her other qualities, then surely she could come out on top of the self-esteem issue.

But perhaps this approach - the approach of pretending that beauty matters at all, in any form, by any standard - is still sending the wrong message. Maybe it shouldn't be "everyone is beautiful for who they are." Maybe it should just be "don't worry about beauty or no beauty, just be."

This loops around, again, then, to my question from before: no matter how many times someone tells you that being beautiful "just doesn't matter," is there really a female alive who will ever believe it? Not just accept their own beauty, not be resigned to who they are or what they look like, not love themselves inside no matter what they look like on the outside, but truly believe that being attractive actually has no bearing on reality?

Will she ever feel it?

Or will she even want to?

A million years ago when I was not even a teen yet, my mother told me something about myself. She pointed out a character quality to me, a positive one she claimed that I possessed. I had never thought this thing about myself before, but she said she saw it in me. And the funniest thing happened. From then on, I tried harder to have that quality. Whether it was really true in the beginning or not, that gave me the motivation to develop that trait. Even still, whenever a situation comes up that calls for that quality, I remember what my mother told me and I try to live up to it.

Every day, all day long, I talk to Lucy. Toddler or not, she's the only one here to talk to! But I tell her things about herself. I tell her that she is strong, that she is brave, that she is smart and good and kind, and I tell her that she can do it, whatever it is.

And yes, I tell her, too, that she is beautiful.

In fact, I call her Pretty-Pretty.

Now, I know what I mean when I call her beautiful. I do mean that she is pretty, because, come on, look at that face. But I also mean that all of those other things that I know she is - strong and smart and brave and precious and her - make her one of the most beautiful things in life. So when I tell her that she's beautiful, does that trump all the other things I've told her she is? Will it in her mind, in the future? Will it be the most important thing, the thing that makes her think that all the other things about her still don't add up to enough?

I would love to say that I believe that all the qualities that I have add up to me being enough, that I love who I am no matter what I look like. In spite of having parents who always told me that I was beautiful, that I had talents, that I was wonderful, that they were proud of me, and in spite of having a husband who I know with burning surety loves me in every way, and is attracted to me and thinks that I am beautiful (and tells me those things, too), the fact is that how I look has never been enough for me, least of all now, and that how that makes me feel does impact who I am and what I think of myself.

I don't think that being pretty is my job. But that doesn't mean that I don't want it.

I am close to someone who has been naturally thin her entire life. She told me once that she is afraid that people who are overweight might be uncomfortable eating in front of her, or that they may think that because she embodies a quality that is prized in our society and they do not, that she might be judging them. At those times, she says she wants to go to them and say, "Don't you know that we are both more than that? Many of the people I love the most look more like you than me. I don't judge them, or you."

When I see a picture of someone I love, I am happy. I am looking at their expression, imagining what they were saying then, seeing the mouth that has laughed with me or the hair I have braided or the eyes that have looked at me and seen something worthwhile. I see beauty, every time, every time.

When I see a picture of myself, I see a nose that is slightly too large and hair that wouldn't go the way I wanted it to that day. I see a double chin and someone who is uncomfortable in their own skin. I see the person who failed at yet another thing today.

Why am I so critical of a picture of myself, and so blind or forgiving to any physical flaw in the ones I love? Is there some fatal defect in the way that my self esteem (or lack thereof) was formed? Possibly. Is it because of images and messages that have been sent to me, to all of us, since we were born? Partly. Could it be because a hundred positive words can be canceled out by one negative or mean comment? Probably. Or is there simply a tendency, born within us all, to be our own worst critics? Because I really believe that is an issue that nearly every woman alive deals with, innately. Maybe we can't beat the system. Maybe there will never be a girl alive who doesn't hear a compliment with an unhealthy amount of skepticism and self-disparaging. Maybe I will never see a picture of myself like my parents do, and maybe Lucy will never see a picture of herself like I do.

This is beautiful, because what she is feeling is real to her.

I see beauty and strength. This is the underbelly of a miracle.

This is my beautiful mommy, who gave her all to me. This is trust and love.

This is one of my most favorite beautiful smiles.

So beautiful, inside and out.

A beautiful reminder of how good a person can be.

So much beauty in strength.

You can't hide your beauty, no matter how hard you try.

A beautiful, sweet spirit to match the face.

_______________________________________________________________________________

Now, how long before I look at this and think, "Beautiful." ?

And how can I make my daughter believe it about herself and what is in her, if I don't believe it about myself?

Stay tuned.