I was watching my daughter play in front of the mirror the other day. She was dancing, primping, and admiring her beautiful little self and her comfort level got me to thinking, ‘when was the last time I felt that confident and secure standing in front of the mirror?’
I was immediately taken aback by how much my relationship with my personal reflection differed from that of my baby girl’s. Her ease in viewing her reflection is in stark contrast to my own, self-critical one, and I found that to be fascinating.
As a young girl growing up in Savannah, GA, I’ll admit I wasn’t the most fashion conscience. My clothing of choice then, much like now, is about comfort and convenience—with a touch of style thrown in here and there. That suits my life as a married, stay-at-home, mother of two.
My daily goals are simple: raise my babies and maintain my figure so that if I want to get sexy, I can do so without having to worry about what’s lies beneath—you feel me?
That said, I still detest looking at myself because, unlike my sweetheart of a daughter, my reflection only offers me the opportunity to find all the things that I don’t like, as opposed to the stuff I do. I continuously find reasons to not just say, ‘you’re perfect just the way you are, don’t worry about it’.
But I will say this, when I see my gorgeous little girl standing in the mirror—loving herself just as she is—in that moment I find the inspiration to recognize the beauty within myself because I realize, at in that moment, that that beautiful little gift from God came from me. And knowing that means there is no way I could be anything but the same.
Then she stops playing in the mirror and I remember my hair is graying, my legs aren’t long enough, and my skin will never be as smooth or even toned as I would like.
Like I said, I’m working on it.
I guess I’ll forever be a work in progress but, then again, aren’t we all?