Beauty is only skin deep. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
Beauty, it would seem, is everywhere except on my face.
Or that is what I say when insecurity comes clawing up out of my tired mind. I shake, and shake again, but it’s a harder thing to lose than I ever thought.
I think about it a lot in consequence. About my relationship to appearance and my perceptions and the concept of beauty all together.
There is discussion, of course, and the ones who say – believe you’re pretty and then you will be. Or, confidence is what makes you beautiful.
And maybe those things are true for some. However for me, I’m finding that beautiful is not about inside and out, but in the complete unself-consciousness of certain moments.
So I started to take notice. When I feel my best, what am I doing?
The answers boiled down to three. What was I doing? I was making something. I was working hard. I was happy.
And for the life of me, I could never find any connection with what I was wearing, what mantra I was preaching to myself, or any outward change in the way I looked.
Beautiful, I’ve decided then, is how I feel. And it has everything to do with forgetting that I even exist in the first place.
Self forgetfulness…not high heels. Feeling outside myself…not obsessing over camera angles. Using my brains and energy…not just my body.
Being rooted in worth far outside what I can appear to be.
It’s a beautiful thing.