“If only our bodies could marry the beauty growing inside them, it wouldn’t be so exhausting trying to love ourselves.”
We will always look at what we aren’t and believe that it’s something greater than what we are.
This whole idea of a “standard of beauty” is so %$!*^@ up. Why should there even be a standard? No one will ever fit into that category wholly and completely. Not now and never will they.
Is it necessary to down grade one group for the glory and uprising of another? You can’t even make up your mind because while you turn your cheek to the tools and formulas that create a temporary camouflage, you lay awake at night self conscious because you can’t be what she is. And she can’t ever be what you are and it twists her thoughts and turns her stomach and both of you are spinning in circles and it’s making you mad. There is no beauty standard. There is no better way to be beautiful. If the world was in on one single solitary idea of what we ‘should’ look like, well then I don’t want to be a part of it. The girl walking down the street in her way-too-baggy jeans and hair that isn’t combed, she’s beautiful. The woman in the 3 piece suit and her 5 inch heels is beautiful. The young wife with her high waisted shorts, un-waxed brows and not a single tube of lipstick to be found, is beautiful.
We always want what we can’t have. But why on God’s green earth can’t we just appreciate people for who they are and how all of these crazy, beautiful, damaged, strong, intelligent people make up the world we live and breathe every day.
It’s ok to see someone and think they’re beautiful, but maybe instead of comparing ourselves and walking away feeling less than or even threatened, we should just tell them. Tell them they’re beautiful and let them be. Who knows, they may need to hear it more than you need to say it.