when chris tells me that i’m beautiful i get uncomfortable and squirmy and often call his bluff. when he tells addie that she’s beautiful, she agrees and twirls and lets the words pour over her like warm honey. for the love of all of the little girls in my life, i’ve been drawn to a healthier view of myself and my body. i want to spend less time worrying about how my arms are so twiggy and more time thinking about who they’re hugging. this kind of thought process is in direct contrast to our society’s narrow view of beauty. the kind that says that only cinderella gets to dance at the ball and all of the other common folk have to stand on the walls and watch aaaand talk about how the dancing princess is kind of clumsy and really not that pretty. it’s the kind of thinking that says our teeth need to be whiter, our hair blonder, our bodies skinnier and that our goal should be this sort of physical perfection at any expense. the older i get, the more i stop worrying and am able to relax and know that i’m beautiful and can actually enjoy another woman’s beauty. this happened yesterday at starbucks. i was feeling particularly pretty and sunny as i drank my coffee. then this girl came along. she had the audacity to sit very close to me and let loose her beautiful blonde curls. she stretched out her perfect, tan legs in front of her. i peered at my own. her tan was better. dangit. her skin was better too, i checked. she didn’t even have the decency to appear shallow but in fact seemed nice. i began to hate her. there was certainly not room for the both of us. i’m shallow sometimes. that dawned on me, so i decided something. i allowed her to be beautiful. oh she didn’t know it, but i did. i stopped being threatened and i stopped demanding to be on top. it felt nice. it felt like freedom. it felt grown up. i was glad for her – which was a notable achievement if you ask me. 
thanks, sarah xo
by jen
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