The “f” word

Dear Friend;

Last night you made a disparaging comment about your appearance in response to a compliment, and the naked vulnerability you displayed was almost as uncomfortable as being naked myself. I could hear the tears, bitten off a millisecond before their deployent, in the slightly louder, more expansive voice you used to convey that you were “joking”.

Friend- I’m going to tell you a secret. Well several secrets, really. First of all~

NOBODY is as hard on you as, well, YOU. What you see as disgusting, awkward, joke-worthy… it doesn’t encapsulate, even by a little bit, the you that my ME resonates with in friendship. I don’t love you “in spite of” or “even though”, or “if only”- It just.doesn’t. MATTER.

Y’all know about my love affair with bacon right? mmm. bacon. I love it so much, I just HAD some, and already I’m wondering if the kids will notice if maybe I eat half of what I made for them while they’re playing upstairs. Now, Let me ask you, internet friends: Do you think it matters to me whether my bacon is on the blue plate or the red plate, or whether it’s sliced in half or left curling in its glorious deliciousness at full size? (Nope).

And friend, you are SO MUCH MORE AWESOME than bacon.

This world, this culture will tell you that in order to be lovable, you must look a certain way. It is SCREAMED from billboards, magazines, commercials- every possible media outlet that daily assaults our senses. You are NOBODY unless you have a body like this one, arms like that one, hair like what’s-her-name… What’s more, if, God Forbid, you DON’T possess any of those attributes, well, then you’re just lazy. or stupid. Yes; definitely the closer that you fall to the median that is accepted, the more successful and intelligent you will appear.

It is so.VERY. WRONG. And it hurts me to see one of my sisters viewing herself through that disgusting, foggy lens. I feel like I lucked out, in many ways. One of them is the culture into which I married. When we visit my in-laws, my mother-in-law at some point invariably pinches me and says, “So skinny. look at you! Come, I cook for you”. Which she then does. My husband, who grew up in that marvelous woman’s home, will shake his head in disgust over the emaciated models on the billboards. And so, under their benevolence, I’ve found myself embracing this kinder view of myself- for the fact remains that this body– stretch marks, extra jiggle, and all– has produced 4 amazing kiddos. Think Peanut gives a hoot if Mama can’t wear the jeans she wore 10 years ago? NOPE. Think it matters to Heir whether my hair looks as awesome as Barbie Mom’s at Kindergarten pick-up? NOPE. What’s more– and this is so apparent when you are the mama of a little girl– my Princess, my petite, perfect little Princess– She is LISTENING to how I speak about myself, and WATCHING how I view myself. Every time I twirl in my church clothes. Every time I check my hair, my make-up. Every scowl at an “imperfection”, every sigh over tight jeans- that is the model of beauty that she is internalizing. I know now, more than ever, that the world’s idea of beauty is most emphatically NOT what I would like stamped into my beloved baby girl’s psyche. And so, when her questions veer into the “Am I pretty?” and “Do I look pretty?” territory, I always, ALWAYS say something along the lines of “Yes, but let’s cultivate INNER beauty by being kind to others”.

Friend, if you only knew how others see you, you wouldn’t even give your appearance another thought- it wouldn’t, it doesn’t, matter, because to me, and to everybody else you encounter, you so clearly embody the fact that

“Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting; but a woman who fears the LORD is to be praised.” (Proverbs 31:30)

I wish you would cut yourself some slack, my beautiful friend.

With love,

me.