4.4

I Am Beautiful. ~ Amanda King

I’ve started telling my girls that I think I’m beautiful.

It’s been so easy to tell them how beautiful they are, because it’s obvious.

They are the thing beauty is made of. They are the reason we started worshiping beauty. They are milky and porcelain with dark eyes that see right through you. They sparkle and dance. When they’re sleeping, they turn into soft cloud babies, little perfect tufts of white on the moonlight.

There are a lot of people like me.

Women who know things. Women who have seen things. Women with diseases in their livers. There are a lot of women with scars on their arms and words that carry themselves like sparrows.

There are women who were too big for this town, who had their backs bent carrying things like religion and a history that originated somewhere in the crook of a branch that extended over a stream.

A place where a patch of the sky was visible through the leaves, where a little girl let her bare leg dangle too far down.

There are a lot of people like me, because we’re all the same. We’re all blood and electricity. We’re lonely under the gaze of god. We’re all wet with dew and swallowing hard against DO THIS, CONSUME, SHUT UP and BE AFRAID to die.

All of you women with lines on your brow, with cracks between your fingers…it’s been a long winter. All of you, you are beautiful and so am I.

The thing is, my children are perfect. I am the grown up, so I’m supposed to show them everything about life. When they wake up in the morning, though, I stare at them and they’re new. They teach me everything. They are babies and they teach me what it means to be a person. It’s easy to see that they’re beautiful.

I am slow and I am tired. I am round and sagging. I am harried. I am sexless. I am getting older.

I am beautiful. How can this be? How can any of this be true?

I don’t want my girls to be children who are perfect and then, when they start to feel like women, they remember how I thought of myself as ugly and so they will be ugly too. They will get older and their breasts will lose their shape and they will hate their bodies, because that’s what women do. That’s what mommy did.

I want them to become women who remember me modeling impossible beauty. Modeling beauty in the face of a mean world, a scary world, a world where we don’t know what to make of ourselves.

“Look at me, girls!”  I say to them.  “Look at how beautiful I am.  I feel really beautiful, today.”

I see it behind their eyes, the calculating and impression. I see it behind their shining brown eyes, how glad they are that I believe I am beautiful. They love me. To them, I am love and guidance and warm, soft blankets and early mornings. They have never doubted how wonderful I am. They have never doubted my beauty. How confusing it must have been for them to see me furrowing my brow in the mirror and sucking in my stomach and sighing.

How confusing it must have been to have me say to them:

“You think I am beautiful, but you are wrong. You are small and you love me, so you’re not smart enough to know how unattractive I am. I know I am ugly because I see myself with mean eyes. You are my child and I love you, but I will not allow myself to be pretty, for you. No matter how shining you are when you watch me brushing my hair and pulling my dress over my head. No matter how much you want to be just like me, I can’t be beautiful for you and I don’t know why.”

I am beautiful.
I am beautiful.
I am beautiful.

It’s even been working, a little bit. I’ve even stopped hating myself, a little bit.

I’ll be what they see. They see me through eyes of love. I’d do anything for them, even this.

I am beautiful.

*This piece was adapted from the original, which can be found here.

Amanda King is a Pittsburgh mommy of two beautiful Super Girls. She is married to the world’s sexiest accountant and they’re all sure to live happily ever after. While not frantically writing stories and searching for the perfect literary agent, she can be found over-sharing on her blog at Last Mom On Earth. Follow her on Twitter.

 

 

 

 

~

Ed: Bryonie Wise

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Source: google.com via Michelle on Pinterest

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blending machine Dec 31, 2013 5:49am

When all we see is a apple abounding of women who are able business women and cool mums who yield their kids to soccer, and gymnastics and appear all the academy plays, the meetings, barrow them to the doctors and mop up their tears and play with them and assistant them if they're sick, and yet. These women still abide spectacularly dressed in the latest fashion, with their bright hair, accomplish up and manicures, and their absolute bodies. We charge courage, to accept that adorableness is aural us.

Rachel Nov 24, 2013 12:14am

I do not have children, but I do have a problem with being over critical of my appearance as many women in our society often do, especially when getting older. Thank you for writing this, I will always keep this in mind for when I have children. Especially with daughters; and if I don't have daughters and have sons, it's still important…showing self love by example is good for all little human beings to see. I have so much gratitude for coming across this right now.

friendlyladybird May 5, 2013 12:26pm

As a mother of a grown up beautiful daughter, I can totally relate to your feelings. In the past I fear I have shown my insecurities about myself too much to my daughter but luckily she is strong and beautiful and resilient. I am grateful to you for writing this and making me think. you are beautiful and I am beautiful too so thank you.xx

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