Over the course of the last three decades I've wondered if I'll ever be pretty enough for someone to find me attractive. Will I ever be thin enough. Will the physical flaws go unnoticed long enough for someone to get to know the real person beneath this freckled and imperfect skin.
I don't know where all of these thoughts came from. I imagine the nasty comments I heard on the all boys soccer team I played on in elementary school and the fact that I didn't make the fuck list compiled by a group of guy friends I had in high school contributed somewhat. But I don't want to give them too much credit.
We have talked this topic to death, but are still so consumed by it. We try to convince ourselves of the truth... beauty comes from within... beauty is found in intelligence and strength and creativity, all the while still worrying about how we might look in that dress or if our makeup has accomplished its task at making us more desirable, more pretty. To be honest, I've felt much more attractive over the last couple of years than the previous 27. I don't know if it's because I lost a few pounds and gained a little confidence or if it's my new haircut or the fact that more people have paid some interest in getting my phone number. I'd like to think it's simply because I've grown to love myself a little more. I've come to the conclusion, that I don't even care so much about becoming pretty as I do lovable, not for the sake of someone else, but for my own. And that, I believe is something we can all attain.
This blog post was inspired by the following video: