I have reached that age where I notice my body changing month by month – and not necessarily for the better if you know what I mean. In a world where looks and youthful appearance is so prized, it is hard to dismiss all of that when we are bombarded with in the media on a daily basis.
I have made a conscious effort as the parent of a daughter to foster an attitude of self acceptance in her. I have told her how beautiful I think she is often – with and without makeup – zit or no zit. I never wanted my girl to feel that she had to be “all put together – aka perfect – just to walk out the door. I know that I feel downright unacceptable without makeup and a hairdo – almost as though people would look at me as they looked at a person with leprosy in Jesus’ times. Luckily, Annie does not feel that way. She enjoys makeup and experimenting with different hair styles, but I don’t think that she feels incomplete without them.
Anyway, she caught me in the mirror last night scrubbing my enlarging pores and tweezing unwanted hairs. She said, “Mom, what are you doing?” I responded, “Examining my many imperfections.” (Bad answer) She said, “Mom, you are supposed to embrace your imperfections.” I felt immediately humbled! She was right!
All of the affirming comments I make to her mean nothing if I show her that I don’t accept myself at 47, 57 or at any age. Actions speak louder than words don’t they? So, do I “Let it go! Let it go…la, la, la, la, la… Age never bothered me anyway!” or do I make sure the bathroom door is locked next time I pick myself apart? The struggles of a woman. Hmmmm.