Accepting Your 'You'

I can't believe I'm even talking about this.

Progress.

As I peel off the dead skin from one of my many odd tan lines, wondering how embarrassing it would be to wear that new skirt I just got. "I knew I shouldn't have worn those shorts over my bathing suit." I thought. A one piece. Already covering most of my body, I still felt the need to wear shorts. And now I am reaping the consequences, unable to correct the damage thanks to rain and mosquitos. "Next summer" I whispered.

Parts of me are whiter than the vanilla ice cream I forgot to put in the freezer, others are gold and freckled. Tank top tan lines and you can tell I wore sunglasses most days. My feet, when cleaned, show that I left my tennis shoes in a car that went back to Knoxville. Flip flop tan lines are my favorite.

Bruised, scabbed, and a little crooked... my knees are healing quite nicely from the summers beatings. I thought I would be tough and go against a brother triple my size while playing ball... the mark still looks like Africa. I think it goes great with my other scars from trying to rescue a raccoon out of a dumpster, and the dozens of trees I climbed back in the day. The raised line on my right hand is often forgotten until someone asks me about it. "Dogs really like me." Is usually my response.

Needing a hair cut would be an understatement. Half blonde half brown. The dead ends are real. I never do my hair, unless the kids get ahold of it, and even then they don't have much to work with. I used to joke Sophomore year that I didn't own a hairbrush. You would have thought it was true. It's truly the least of my worries.

My eyes never used to be outlined black, and they could have stared you right back in the eye. Now they wander in hopes you won't notice. I remember when sleepovers weren't an event I had to map out every scenario. Or the hurt I have to cover up when I'm asked why I'm different. Masked. I'm in hiding. To bad my hiding place sucks and has to many glitches. What I would do to go back...

With a crooked back, uneven skin, extra long fingers, size 11 feet, and eyes most people can't describe other than "wolf" or "grey blue" I am a whole lot of mess.

I used looked in the mirror in hate, to wish, and regret.

I can't believe I'm even talking about this.

Progress.

Someone told me I was beautiful. Someone told me I was His creation. They didn't give me the crappy, "It's what's on the inside" speech. They told me my voice was big. That they would take me bald. That I was safe without the mask. That my anxiety, and the actions from it, don't define me as a person. It was up to me to see that I was beautiful. To know that confidence makes a world of difference. Letting my guard down was freaking scary, sharing my insecurities and baring my naked self for all to see was NOT easy. And I cried.

But then something happened...

I was still me. I was still loved, accepted, and cared for. They saw me in my vulnerability and life continued on. Do you know how beautiful that is? To be free for the first time after so long you kept yourself locked up for no reason? I know what it feels like now. And yes, I still wake up in the morning and wish I looked more like Keira Knightley, Jennifer Lawrence or Natalie Portman (The taller versions.) But now I look in the mirror without hurtful words, but acceptance. To "work with what ya got."

I'm slowly learning these things. Slowly. But it's progress, and I love it. I am proud of myself. That I have gotten this far. That the stretch marks don't mean ugly, and the angel kiss on my ear isn't weird. My broad "football" shoulders, as we call them, look awesome in a strapless dress. And people would "kill" for my legs.

So I guess you could say I am accepting my me. Not because I've thrown a pity party like "Might as well accept the bad." Not at all. I'm just finally starting to see the good. It's not all about the looks *woah didn't I just say I don't like that speech? Yes, but this is different. Focus on having a beautiful mind, heart, and soul... next thing you know people will see a change in you too.

I have a journal that says "Live Beautifully" on the front cover. I've adopted this as my sort of mantra. So here I am. That once masked girl buried in her own insecurities, focused on what others saw when they looked at her. And now I can confidently say, that if I'm living beautifully, that's what will be seen. Both in my own eyes and others.


GOD IS WITHIN HER; SHE WILL NOT FALL. PSALM 46:5