Fairest One of All

“Mirror, mirror on the wall: who is the fairest one of them all?”

            I have seen the Disney Snow White, and I also remember the lesson of how the queen was this evil woman plaguing the poor princess over her beauty.  Girls have grown up desiring to be adored as such princesses.  However, can I be completely honest?  I wonder how often we actually feel like the queen from the story, begging our reflection affirmation to our questions of worth.  I know that I have stared into the mirror, looked at different components of my face and body…and for the moment, I am satisfied.  I am content with what I see, and no barring thoughts from the outside hinder the joy.  That is…until I think about the differences between me and a friend, and thoughts of how much more she is – how much more wonderful and beautiful she is than me.

            It’s a disheartening cycle.  I have looked at myself and loved myself, and then hate certain features of my physical being.  And the summation I get from the total picture: because a part of me doesn’t fit the ideal perfection of a woman, my complete self is not worth loving.  It continues as I not only criticize my outward beauty, but the things inside of me, as well.  I have compared my interests with that of other ladies, and thought, “I am not woman enough. My talents aren’t enough- why should I try to use them?  Shouldn’t I dress up more often? I play too much with the boys; they would never find me attractive.” 

For those reading this, maybe this is such a staunch different tale you would expect to hear.  Especially from a Christian.  Girls are beautiful no matter what form.  Don’t I know that God has made me fearfully and wonderfully; that I am pleasant and a delight (Psalm 139: 14; Song of Solomon 7:6)?  Yes.  I know it.  At least in my head.  And there are times I know it in my heart as well.  There have been times that I was truly confident in the woman that God created me to be, as me.  There was a time I didn’t care what people thought about certain hobbies I had.  I knew that it was me, and I went out, fully alive.  So, what happened?  What happened to the little girl that was so confident in who God fashioned her to be, that she so often now struggles to see the beauty inside of her even for a little bit? 

It’s a daily thing where I have to combat the idea that I am not beautiful or worthy enough; I have to rebuke the thought that my gifts cannot benefit my community.   I wish I could remember that I have been etched from edge to edge.  How I have been wonderfully molded and crafted, and stitched with divine threads.  The alternative is so much worse.  Beating myself down emotionally, as well as physically at times (I dealt with some self-harm, because I had believed I was worthless.  I also remember not wanting to eat cheese and refused to drink more than half a glass of milk during high school and college, because I feared that I would gain weight, and lose any bit of beauty I hoped to have). 

Perhaps I am writing this post out of some form of therapeutic process.  Almost a quarter of a century, and there are still moments I look at my reflection in the mirror, and I am reminded of certain things that people have said to me. (I am also reminded of the lack of things said that were needed.) Whether or not they realized it, these words had a grave impact on how I see myself wholly as an individual and as a woman.  I am not trying to rehash the past and wallow in the subjugated hatred I have had for myself.  Rather, I am trying to figure out where I suddenly believed that I was less than who I am, and where can I start again seeing myself as my Father truly sees me.  Perhaps it’s just therapy, but I also know that I am not the only one who is prone to strain in front of the glass every morning.

  This idea of lacking in beauty is rooted in fear.  Fear that somehow we, as ladies, are not enough (or too much) to be a gift to the people around us. And in that belief, we curse ourselves.  We abuse (yes, abuse; the definition of abuse is to mishandle or mistreat) ourselves with disgusting, cursing, remarks.  Furthermore, we evidently share the message, discouraging other women in their beauty.  This seems to be less believable.  Women are so easily able to encourage the beauty in others while they simultaneously fail to see it in themselves. However, we can be the worst when it comes to comparisons.  And comparing we do…A LOT.  We size ourselves up- our physical features, our hobbies, talents, lives – to other women, and believe that she has it more together than we do. 

The truth is…she probably thinks the same thing about herself when she looks at you. And the sad part?  Writing that instinctively makes me feel better.  Because somehow, knowing that someone else is just as flawed as me means that I am ‘not that bad’. 

Dagnabit!  When are we going to rid ourselves of all this bull-crap?!  Seriously?  I am tired of focusing on the things (or the idea of it) that paint us as these flawed creatures.  As if God had screwed up while He was forming us.  I want to remember.  I want to remember the things God had put in me are good.  That the certain interests I have are not flaws, but wonderful aspects that beautify my life. Not that I am better than any other woman; but just different. How He formed my physical being – face, hair, shoulders, stomach, waist, hips, legs, and whatever else to fit in the list – no matter how they may change through the years – was also made perfectly. 

Recently, I was at a slumber party, and a couple of the girls did the others’ make-up and hair.  It was a lot of fun.  And it was hilarious to see my friends’ reaction as foundation, blush, something that contours my cheekbones and eyes was put on my skin.  I didn’t know what I would expect when I finally was able to look in the mirror after my ‘make-over.’  The girls did good.  In fact, I looked FI-INE.

But something interesting also happened.  As much as I liked what I saw in the mirror, I missed what I looked like without it.  I think what did it was my freckles.  They were pretty covered up – and I LOVE my freckles.  As I took off the make-up before bed, I realized that I preferred myself as I am.  That indeed I was created beautifully with the features God already designed me with.  (Disclaimer:  This story is not to tell girls to not wear make-up.  This is just to relate how God gave me confidence in who I am.  If you love to wear make-up to feel beautiful, then do so.  And thank you ladies for the fun that night.)

Do you have a story like this?  I hope you do, and if not, that you are able to find one soon.  Remembering our beauty takes an active effort.  I usually have to write certain things down, and stories like these are worth noting.  What are the beautiful aspects of your life?  What is the wonderful hobbies and talents you have?  Use them!  Does a painter paint the same piece of work?  Not at all.  Each time he does, he develops a new vision to transform his canvas. We each have been made differently, but that does not determine a measure of beauty lesser or greater than the next.  Just different.. You truly have been wonderfully made, and you have been specifically designed in such a way that no other person can fill what you can do.  You are a beautiful, beyond all comparison and measure.  Priceless. 

“Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the fairest one of all?”

Each and every one of us.