Tuesday, June 23, 2015

I’m just beautiful me

As I get older one thing becomes more and more (painfully ) clear: I am my own WORST critic, and it needs to STOP. 

Today Husband and I had pictures taken, and tonight my photographer posted a preview on Facebook. This photo, actually: 



It's beautiful. The colors coordinate well and are bright and vivid. I am radiant. Husband is smiling (well as close as he comes to smiling for pictures anyway), and his eyes are so BLUE. We look like we are comfortable and happy with each other. 

Kate and Sassy Jose told us all through the evening how great we looked and how happy they were with the shots they were getting. I know it is not most important (or at all), but there has been a huge outpouring of love from our friends in the form of 'Likes' and positive, loving comments on Social Media. What IS most important:
This is a photograph of me and my beloved. Because of that there is not one reason I should look at this photograph with anything but a heart bursting with love. 

My initial reaction to seeing this photo? "Ugh. I have a pooch-I wish I could have found my belt so I could hide that, I'm jowly, you can totally tell I need my roots done, and to top it all off I am REALLY starting to look like a tired, middle aged woman."


WHY!? WHY DO WE DO THIS!?? 


 I am surrounded by beautiful people I am lucky enough to call friends. They come in all shapes and sizes, with so many wonderful attributes and talents. I constantly find myself comparing myself to these incredible women and tearing myself down because I don't stack up to my own stupid standards; Social Media makes it even worse. Rather than being happy with what I CAN do and a body that works and is healthy and allows me to do so many things others cannot I can only focus on the fact that I am simply not built to be a size 6 or a B cup-no matter how many treats I refuse or Zumba classes I attend (thanks hearty Dutch genes!). Instead of relishing that every day I look more and more like my beautiful, precious mother and I have a loving, supportive Husband who thinks I am the most beautiful woman alive all I can think is that I no longer look like I'm 20--like that's a bad thing. Yes, I will be 35 this year; I am closer to 40 than 20. I am officially middle aged. There. I said it. I have smile lines, crows feet, and old acne scars. But do you know what? Those smile lines and crows feet show I have lived a life that has sometimes been sad, but has mostly been full of happiness and laughter. They show I have learned and grown. And those scars? They taught me empathy and compassion; they remind me of that every time I look in the mirror. Most importantly? The scars and lines aren't as bad as I perceive them to be. 

I catch myself doing it with other parts of my life, too. I recently embarked upon an opportunity that has presented itself (it is still very much in the air so I don't want to put too much out there yet), and once I put myself out there for this opportunity I immediately began to doubt and nay say myself. 

I am always telling myself I am beautiful, good enough, capable, and qualified, yet I rarely BELIEVE IT. What good is telling ourselves these things if we refuse to actually believe them?




I am working on all of these things, and learning that confidence is not pride and self-doubt is not humility, but it is a slow process. A process I was reminded of again tonight. When I receive the rest of my images from tonight's session I will try my hardest to make sure I only focus on the positive and not the negative. I need to remember my perception isn't always correct; and the people I love clearly see something I do not, so I need to trust that. As for the days that doesn't work I will just play this on repeat, have a good cry, get up, brush myself off, and try again tomorrow.