I’ve Grown Accustomed to My Face….

Just thinking…..

I hate mirrors.

They tell the truth.

And the truth is that I am not a pretty person. I am not beautiful, or cute, or gorgeous, or any of those other words that describe a winsome female. I came to grips with this when I was a little girl. The mirror showed me a skinny, short kid with crooked teeth, and a pointy chin, and tow head hair that stuck out in a hundred directions. I had knobby knees and stubby fingers. People never came up to me and chucked me under the chin and exclaimed that I was soooooo cute. Men never swooned as I passed by. Boys didn’t whistle. Clothes on the model or mannequin never hung the same way on my body. That never happened.

My husband has spent his married lifetime trying to convince me that I am beautiful. And most of my married lifetime, I thought he was blind.

Here is what I look like now at 64:

And here is what I think I look like:
1. The bug-eyed alien

2. The laughing fat girl

3. The dumpy hausfrau

Isn’t it strange how my eyes and my mind don’t match?

I spent my first 18 years trying to gain weight, and the rest of my years trying to lose.

I was born with black hair and between then and now, I have had every hair color imaginable (well….. not the pink and blue tones….). I finally just let it grow, and amazingly, I have a silvery platinum now as a natural color.

I couldn’t wait to wear make up. I lined my eyes and painted my cheeks, then went thru the “au natural” phase, then hit the professional look, and now I just wash my face and put on some moisturizer with sun screen.

I’ve been the couch potato and the gym fanatic, but I’ve never really looked toned. No one would mistake me for an athlete.

I hated my nose (I used to call it my “ski slope”) and hated my teeth, so I didn’t smile. Braces took care of the teeth, but the nose is still long….. And did I say that I hated my fat apple-cheeks?

My eyes are small. I remember my grandma talking about her own eyes being small and how wearing glasses helped to disguise that. I still don’t wear glasses, so no help there.

People used to say that I looked like my mother. I didn’t want to look like my mother. But now I must admit that my mom and I share many features. And my mother is a handsome older woman. Here we are in a sketch:

I decided long ago that I could never depend on my looks to get ahead in life, so I had best develop my mind. I had best develop my character. Every morning I had re-develop my confidence. And every day I searched the mirror and came away shaking my head.

Recently, I listened to an amazing woman talk to a group of little girls. She told them that they were all beautiful. She told them that God created them in His own image, and that He had made each one of them to be unique and beautiful in so many ways. At first, my mind snapped back to my old way of thinking: “Beautiful? Forget it. Never have been, never will be.”

However the more I listened to her, the more I was convinced that my appearance was not repulsive to God. And I began to understand that my husband was not reviled by my appearance. I could accept others as being beautiful, so why could I never accept myself in the same way?

Honestly, I don’t know all the answers to that question. I know that I was raised to not think too highly of myself. I know that I always felt that I came up short when compared to others. And it’s good to not have prideful notions or to think that I have to flaunt my face and body to get any attention.

But somewhere along the line, I failed to realize that God created me to be a beautiful person. I got sucked into the lie that I had to look a certain way, weigh a certain weight, move in certain patterns, and wear certain clothes in certain fashions in order to be counted worthy. It’s the same lie that continues to plague girls and women. We just have never learned the value of ourselves in God’s eyes. And we have been taught in so many ways that beauty is a certain formula and set of statistics, and that if we don’t conform, then we have to live with ugly. Or least…. plain. They taught it; we bought it.

So, for better or for worse, here I am. I have slowly learned to appreciate my husband’s praises and compliments. I have slowly learned the truth that God makes no junk. And I am so grateful for that wonderful woman who talked to those little girls…. and to me.

And here I am…. just as I am:

(photo by Pat Lane)

I still don’t like to look into the mirror. I still have to fight the lie that I have no worth or value because I don’t look a certain way. Remember that song from My Fair Lady: “I’ve grown accustomed to her face….” Well, I’ve grown accustomed to my face, but more than that, I’ve grown to accept myself. That’s not to say that I will quit exercising, or quit having my hair cut, or quit trying to keep my weight under control. I just have to keep it all in balance.

Father, “Just as I am, without one plea….” That song didn’t use to be me because You know that I didn’t like who I was, and my plea was always to wake up beautiful. Help me to continue to realize that You had perfect plans when You created me, and help me to live as Your beautiful daughter. Thank You for the gift of life, and forgive me for not accepting it as You intended.

To God be the Glory….
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