I'm finally finding and acknowledging the beauty in myself

“How do I look?” “You look fine.”

“How’s my hair?” “Your hair is fine."

“Look at me! How do I look, damn it?” “Babe, you’re beautiful. I tell you this all the time but you don’t believe me. It’s getting hard to keep saying it if you throw it back at me."

And, like most typical women, I’d hope some day I really would believe it when I was told I was beautiful instead of picking out all my flaws.

But vanity is a sin — or so I was taught. You were presentable: clean and tidy. Be a good person, be smart and funny (if it works for you). But as for looks? Shelve that.

I understand that philosophy. But if that’s what you’re taught — and it was what I was taught — it’s hard to accept compliments about my physical appearance. Hard to take them at face value. Hard to to be outwardly confident about my looks when everything in my upbringing screamed loudly, inside me, to shrink away, to tuck my head down, smile and say “thank you"  and deflect.

I spent the vast majority of my marriage thinking I wasn’t enough. My weight fluctuated severely. My hair colour changed continuously. My wardrobe was filled with black clothing designed to camouflage my body instead of embracing my curves. None of this — not one iota of it — was done from any words that came from My Favourite Husband's lips. It was driven by me and the idea that I should hide my looks.

Something changed in the last few years. It started pre-COVID-19 and pre-widowhood when I started taking bellydancing workshops. I had an instructor who was helping me work on my shimmies and on my walk, or strut. I wasn’t walking as confidently as she instinctively knew I could, so she told me to look in the mirror and "strut my stuff." Tired of her encouragement, I threw back my head and strutted towards that mirror in the front of the class. Oh, it felt good! So good! I walked like a queen; like a goddess; like every other desirable woman before me has walked. I walked with intent and purpose. And I looked at myself — really looked at myself — in that mirror. And in addition to knowing that dance would shape and tone me, I knew in that moment, it would make me see myself and carry myself as a woman who is beautiful inside and out. When I’m feeling “less than,” all I need to do is square my shoulders back and sway my hips while walking proudly forward to start feeling beautiful again. 

COVID-19 robbed my of my happy place to dance. My studio was a casualty of forced confinement and the resulting business closures. But as the world has been opening up — almost fully now for some time — I’ve been finding pockets where my happy is available.

All of my pool time and eating a more proportioned, healthy diet has slimmed and toned me. I am grateful for the way my body looks and responds thanks to those efforts. And now that I can add belly dancing workshops back into my life, I am back to appreciating my new physical self as I confidently dance my way forward.

To the next man who tells me I’m beautiful: thank you. I know it and I believe you.

❤️