There's been a post making the rounds on Facebook, and it made me think some deep thoughts. Really, that's pretty impressive in a social networking site full of useless memes, so GOOD JOB DOVE.
I'm sure most of you have seen it (if not, I'll post the vid at the end of this). In it, women are asked to make friends with a random person in a room, then go into another room and describe what they look like to a sketch artist. Then, the person they talked to later comes in and describes them, and the two sketches are compared. It's a pretty graphic example of how flawed we as people tend to see ourselves, and conversely how gently those around us do instead.
In all honesty, my lack of giving two fucks about how the world, on a superficial level, views me has been a marked aspect of my character. People literally describe me as someone WHO DOESN'T GIVE A FUCK WHAT YOU THINK, which, ironically, has helped develop the foundation for the best relationships in my life. I always loved my foster mom's grey hair that she's had since her 30s, my aunt's smile lines, my grandmother's soft cheeks that I remember being pressed against my temple when she hugged me. These are all marked signs of aging, and some of my favorite features, which consequently never made me fear aging.
But now, I'm actually at an age where, hey-o, society tells me I need to invest in those fancy anti-aging creams. Worry about free-radicals. Destroy my body fat to a trim level because lord knows if I go into my 30s/40s carrying extra weight I'll never get rid of it. And yet, I still can't really care. My wonderful boyfriend/partner/future husband will look me deep in the eyes and smile into them, and I know he sees me as lovely. That's what he calls me, actually: lovely. Not sexy (which I hate). Not beautiful (which has always smacked of honeycoated bullshit). L o v e l y. And it feels completely genuine. I could care less about free radicals, or uneven tone. I've made peace with my acne and scars long ago...they're just another part of my body, which is the only one I'll ever own, and it's taken me down an impressive path that I'm still in the beginning of. I'm going to the gym because I want to be stronger, more limber, and better equipped to help my knees manage.
And honestly, I never knew love could be such an inspiration. Liam doesn't see my flaws, he sees someone he cares deeply for. I've always looked at healthy living like a chore, honestly. I'd say I'm 60% compliant or so because I like myself enough to care about my overall health, but now I want to be 98% compliant. I want to take every supplement and juice so I can have a long and happy life with my family, specifically the person I plan on spending it with. I never knew that was a byproduct of happiness.
So, while the underlying meaning of this blog may have been lost, I can simply say with confidence that I think, if I had to describe myself to a sketch artist, I could easily recall all the sweet comments my beloveds make to me. Big eyes. Curly hair. Freckles. Honest and open smile. I have a dear friend who is constantly pushing her body to new extremes in an effort to have this imagined perfection, and it horrifies me. I have another dear friend, from years ago, who was one of the first to point out my natural beauty who still lifts me up out of the clear blue almost daily on FB.
I'm lucky. I'm loved. I'm in love. And living in loveliness.
