Hubs has started this new thing where he takes pictures or videos of me, and I have no idea until I see them posted later. I'm not a girly girl. Makeup rarely touches my skin. Fixing my hair normally involves brushing it after I shower and throwing on headband or 'hippie' do-rag. Given the choice, I'm outside, so during the summer, hot and sweaty is how I roll. Needless to say, I'm nowhere close to model material.
I saw the latest picture this morning, and, not gonna lie, premeditated murder suddenly made sense. ;-) So, being a good wife of over 23 years, I bitched and moaned and fussed at him.
His simple response floored me. "I think you're beautiful."
My first reaction was to wonder just how bad his eyes are, or if I need to have him committed to the loony bin. Self-doubt and insecurities raised their ugly heads. They weren't poised to strike. Nope, they just lashed out, tearing off strips of flesh with their sharp teeth.
Then his words came back to me. HE THINKS I'M BEAUTIFUL.
Where I see lines and wrinkles, he sees years of laughter and smiles.
Where I see stretch marks and a fat stomach, he thinks about the times our babies kicked his hand.
Where I see saggy boobs, he remembers the hours I spent in the same rocking chair that's now on our porch, nursing and nourishing our babies.
Where I see disaster in the mirror, he sees BEAUTY.
Why am I never satisfied with myself? Why do I tear myself down? Why do I never think I'm enough?
Why can't I see myself through his eyes? Maybe I don't love ME as much as he loves me. And that, folks, is not a good thing.
Four simple words. "I think you're beautiful." Looks like I've got some things to work on, and maybe one day, I'll think I'm beautiful, too.