My internet friend Michelle tagged me on Instagram last week for #20beautifulwomen. It really made my day smack in the midst of a phenomenally bad couple of weeks. How lovely and unexpected to be told by someone you’ve admired for a long time that she thinks you’re a beautiful person too! I’ve been spending a lot of time since then thinking about beauty and what that word means to me.
I’ve never thought of myself as physically beautiful. My nose is weird, my ptosis make my eye look all wonky. I mean. OK. I think I’m reasonably attractive, but not beautiful. I’m good with that.
The women I tend to think are truly beautiful are the women I respect and look up to. The women I wish I was more like. My mother in law was a beautiful woman. She was kind and generous. She was no saint, mind you, she was a red head after all (wink wink), but she was a good person. I think that’s what beauty is to me, really, having a good soul.
My friend Amanda, who is raising her awesome son, Milo, all on her own. My aunt Ali, (who might as well be my big sister), who has lived through one hell of a year. My sister in law, Anna, who devotes her free time to charity and giving back. My daughter, Miss W, who has the biggest heart I have ever known. There are so many women that I admire, who are beautiful to me. I can’t list you all, there are too many of you.
I know that I’m no good with people. I have such a genuinely difficult time speaking Human. I try to just quietly do good things because when I open my mouth, it quite often ends in disaster. But I try. And I’ll keep trying. And I’ll keep looking up to the truly beautiful women in my life for inspiration and guidance and hope.