When I was 10-years old, I overheard a family member tell someone that she thought I was cute, not pretty, just cute. I was taking a nap on the couch, and woke up in time to hear her conversation. It damaged me. I pretended like I was sleep, but turned around to hide the teardrops falling from my eyes.
For years, I looked at myself as just cute, not pretty, but cute. In reality, I questioned why others didn’t view me as I viewed myself. I loved my skin color. I am amber brown, a reflection of my mother’s fair skin and my father’s rich dark skin. I have beautiful full lips, big brown eyes as bright as the sun and a button nose. I have a small gap in my teeth, which adds to my beautiful imperfections. My hair is cotton soft and was never really able to grow very long (it has a mind of its own). I loved who I saw looking back at me when I looked in the mirror, but to others, I guess I wasn’t good enough.
When I was 15, my boyfriend told me “You’re Beautiful” for the first time in my life, I heard those words; it made me love him even more. My whole worth was warped into how he viewed me. I wanted to be his ideal; I wanted to remain beautiful in his eyes. Once our relationship died, I was completely lost. I spent years trying to reverse the effect that he had on me. I was insecure and I felt rejected. Who would ever love me as much as he did? Who would ever view me as beautiful again? I was broken. Continue reading “Reclaiming My Beauty”