“Why are you so down on yourself?” It just burst out of him. He hesitated then apologized for his tone. But he didn’t let it go – “you talk like…you think you’re not beautiful” he said, not knowing he was breaking my heart. Today I leave behind…every demeaning thought I have of myself.

I am too much. Too strong. Too opinionated. No man would ever want a girl that will occasionally cuss like a sailor and tell him when he’s being a dick. (That was mild. Come on now.)

I have riotous curly hair. The kind that looks like it has been electrocuted. A bird’s nest. Hair that looks like a weasel died on top of my head.

I have flab. Stretchmarks, dimples and cellulite and my ass sags more on one side than the other. Yes, I went there.

I dress indecently, especially for God-fearing, church loving men. I am a woman they do not respect.

I am an insecure bundle of nerves and again who would want to be friends with (or more than friends with) someone who is constantly belittling herself or putting herself down?

There. I’ve laid it bare – all this ugliness. Now to “bestow a crown of beauty instead of ashes”. 

I am wonderfully opinionated. I speak my mind and am forthright and honest. One day some sexy man of God (what?!) will see that and will adore that about me. He will thank his lucky stars for having found someone who will not resort to the silent treatment to punish him, for someone who will rationally confront him over any concerns and issues. This does not make me less of a woman.

I have beautifully messy hair. It is sexy and uninhibited (really uninhibited). One day it will be longer and will be even more beautiful than it is now.

My body is soft and inviting (not that kind of inviting. Jeez.). I am a woman. I have dangerous curves and yes a little bit extra here and there but that only makes me more womanly. This body functions. It does wonderful things (walking, running, dancing). I am grateful for it.

I love being a woman. I dress like one. I have been told I have “legs that stop traffic”. Occasionally they make an appearance. That does not make me a whore. That does not make me cheap or easy. I like to showcase my assets but never in a cheap or tawdry way. Only in a way that celebrates my femininity. Most of the time I dress for myself. On rare occasion, I dress for a guy. Hey, it happens and it’s completely normal. I will be sensitive to my brothers’ eyes. I will do my best not to make them stumble. But I cannot please everyone and there will be men that think wearing a miniskirt means you cannot possibly be wife material. I will pray for them. They need it.

I am a normal woman with normal insecurities. But I am an amazing creation of God, fearfully and wonderfully made. I love much and am loved much. Who wouldn’t want to be friends with someone like me?

Today I leave behind what people have said about me. What I have said about myself. Today I will carry who God tells me I am. A work in progress. Imperfect. But beautifully so.


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