Battle Scars & Broken Nails

Tonight I took a nice long refreshing shower. And before that shower I did something I haven't done in a while. I stared at myself, stark naked in the mirror for a solid 10 minutes. I examined myself thouroughly. The tattoos, the surgery scars, the eyeliner that had found it's way to the creaces in the corners of my eyes. As unflattering as I'm sure W Magazine would find my reflection I thought it was beautiful. I saw a deccisive, funny, intellegent and talented young woman. I saw every inch of my imperfect self and admired the fact that I have someone who loves those inches as much as I do. My kinky hair and my crooked index finger, whose nail I broke packing boxes.

It's a simple matter, liking yourself, but it seems to be the hardest thing for most women to actually do. We are the abstract in a world of realism. Most of us walk around completely convinced that the woman we painted on that morning is exactly who we are. Then, when it all comes off; the weave, the make-up, the wonder bra...we feel inadequate. Well at my young age, I'm hardly an expert at self acceptance or esteem, and I can freely admit there are quite a few things I'd like to improve about myself. But I do know that we are not what we see in the mirror alone. And if we place too much value on looks, then we'll find at the end of the day or the end of our youth that we have nothing about ourselves to be proud of. Looking in the mirror and seeing more than shapes and colors is the mark of a woman who knows the truth in beauty.