I want to be beautiful, Part 1

Raise your hand if you have ever struggled with low self-esteem or poor self-image?  (You can put your hand down now). I've spent over half of my life unsatisfied in the skin I'm in. As long as I can remember, I wanted something about my physical to be different, better.

When I was younger, I had a serious unhealthy image of my caramel-mocha complexion. I didn't notice my complexion was considered less-than attractive, until I was teased and taunted because of it. And there I was this little girl uncomfortable in her own skin. I was in elementary school when I began down the path of self-hate. I used to waste countless minutes of every day wishing to have a fairer complexion. I wanted to have a complexion like my sister or my dad or even the shade of the inside of my forearm would do. Anything but mocha-caramel--that color to me was not pretty and I was that color, thus I was not pretty. I was convinced that I would feel better about myself if only my skin was lighter. I hated my skin. It didn't matter how much my parents tried to tell me otherwise, it was my peers opinions that mattered more to me than anyone. And so it began: the over valuing of the opinions of one's peers.  And I embarked on this incredibly lengthy journey of self-hate.

When I was a little girl I really wanted to be thinner. I remember being teased because my frame wasn't as small as my female counterparts. I just wanted to be like them.  They were pretty and appeared to be happy. And no, I was not this sad little kid with no friends, I had friends and I had a happy childhood. But, if we are to talk about how I perceived my beauty, or the lack there of, it would be safe to say that I was struggling. The struggle only got worse as I grew older as my feet pattered against the trial glazed in tears of self-hate.

By the time I was in high school I had an entire arsenal of features that I desired to change about myself. 

Let's see..
I didn't like my flat behind and neither did any of the boys and girls that seemed to make it the butt (no pun intended) of their cruel jokes. I hated my behind. My feet pattered further down this path of self-hate.

I didn't like my hair, I wanted a relaxer--all the pretty girls wore relaxers, instead I had the natural hair(which is celebrated and admired more now than I've ever experienced in my life time) that when straightened mimicked a relaxer. But I didn't dare want to get it wet or it was going back to it's curly state and none of the pretty girls wore their hair naturally curly, so I didn't want to either. I hated my hair. My feet pattered further down this path of self-hate.

I hated my dark circles under my eyes. I have been teased about those too many times and to this day I can remember some of the very specific mean words that spewed out like hot lava on my broken self-esteem. The last time I checked no one wants to be compared to a raccoon, no one ever desires to look like that animal. I hated my dark circles. My feet pattered further down this path of self-hate.

I didn't like my lips, they were too big and I was tired of being sexually harassed because of the size of my lips and what boys claimed that I should do with them. I hated my lips. My feet pattered further down this path of self-hate.

I didn't like my large,' man hands' or my wide-big feet.  I hated my hands and my feet. My feet pattered further down this path of self-hate.

I didn't like my calves, they were too big. I hate my calves. My feet pattered faster and further down this path of self-hate.

I didn't like my arms. They had stretch marks on them and I wish to forget being told something along these lines: "I would never wear my arms out. I wouldn't want anyone to see those (referring to my stretch marks)." So, I found myself incredibly aware of them and I worked really hard to hide my arms if I were ever wearing a shirt that would reveal them. I hated my arms. My feet pattered faster and further down this path of self-hate. 

I hated my body, it didn't have an hourglass shape and it was not a size small enough to be classified as beautiful, at least not by my standards that were laced in the faulty images engraved in our culture. I hated my body. My feet lifted and jolted down this road of self-hate. I was so far down this road that there wasn't much left about my physical to hate.

As I think of it, there wasn't much that I liked about my physical appearance, as a result I had an incredibly poor self-image and self-esteem. But, very few people knew it, because I was that good at hiding it. I pretended to be confident because I didn't want anyone to notice that I didn't like myself. I didn't want to draw that type of attention to myself, so I pretended to feel confident and pretty, yet I hated so much about myself. I was hurting because each time I glanced in the mirror I could never find beauty. And even if for a moment I identified something to like, I could immediately pick out several things to hate.

I can not remember a time, ever--when I really loved the skin I was in, possibly because no such time has ever existed, not even now. And even though many of the features I once hated and wished were different I've come to accept and even love, yet, there's still this feeling deeply rooted within me of physical inadequacy. I'm constantly feeling like I don't measure up to someone else's standards of beauty. For so long I have never felt beautiful, but at some point you reach a place where you want better. You want better for yourself.

I want better for myself.

I want to live by a new, more accurate definition of beauty. I want to stop obsessing about my physical image and be consumed with my spiritual body.For once, I want to look in the mirror and point out every beautiful feature God designed within me, instead of noticing anything that I classify as a flaw. I want to tell my son and my daughter to love their bodies and to love everything God created about them, while also believing it about myself.

I want to be their role model.

And though they are still young, I have to start now. I have to redefine for myself what true beauty means and strive to obtain it.

Come back tomorrow for part two as I discuss real beauty and for the announcement of an exciting 10-day quest.