This morning I was having a lovely time drinking coffee and sharing a breakfast sandwich at our new kitchen away from home, E.A.T. in old Town Temecula. There was also a "small breakfast salad" included. Salad for breakfast? It was fabulous. Anyway, it had a little flower on it for decoration and I asked Whiskey Jim to take a picture of me with the flower smashed into my teeth with the caption "Do I have anything in my teeth?" It was a fun moment with posing and laughing and thanking God that we had each other in this big world. But it all fell apart for just a little second when I looked at the picture to see if it was "good". The committee in my head convened immediately and started their chorus of "yikes, you did put on make up and kind of brushed your hair but it sure doesn't look like it" and then they sang "look how good everyone else looks and your face looks so wrinkley. Why, your eyes don't even show anymore when you smile" and they finished up with their usual rendition of the classic "did you get the name of that bus (that just ran me over)"
I put my phone down and was immediately me again. It was shocking. No, it wasn't like this was the first time something like this happened - I'm an old hat at self-degradation. I've been perfecting my litany of faults for years. Thankfully, in an instant I was able to calm down and realized something.
I realized that when I do that to myself, when I judge myself by my looks and find myself wanting, I insult my family - my parents who both chipped in to make me, my children who have loved my face since the first time we looked at each other and my husband who tells me daily how pretty I am (God bless him). I negate every experience with all the people that I have loved and who have loved me. I am not just my face. I am not just my round body that has housed 2 babies, raised 3 sons, taught a whole bunch of kids over the years, washed dishes and laundry for my family, held friends as they cried, wiped bottoms and noses and washed squirming dogs so I could stand to be around them. I am everything inside of me that has brought me to where I am here and now.
I have always thought that being happy makes people beautiful. A relaxed, open face that reflects the open heart of a person is what I'm drawn to. A person who has a joyous smile and is laughing is who I want to sit by in a crowd.
Once I saw this older woman in Costco. I was about 25 years old and arrogant. I was still sitting at the kid's table of life and thought it was the best thing ever. I was pushing my cart around and looked up to see this woman with short, beautiful gray hair, a smile as wide as her whole face and sparkling eyes that saw everyone around her. She was a stranger to me and she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. She wasn't wearing make up. Her hair was brushed back from her face. She was so present in that moment that it made me catch my breath and I stood staring at her. I decided that I wanted to be like that when I was her age. Her face was relaxed and she seemed to be right where she was supposed to be. I wanted to be present and inquisitive, eager to see everything and unafraid of life - just like her.
Well, here I am after all those years. And what am I doing? Not being like her. Being critical of myself - just like when I was that firm, smooth 25 year old goddess who didn't really feel her power and beauty. I know a beautiful woman who is very dear to me. You might say that at one time she was my whole world. She has lived and continues to live a full life with children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren who love her very much. She's gorgeous. Everyone says so. But she talks about still wanting to lose those last ten pounds. She still looks in the mirror and sees flaws that only she can see. I tell her that she's crazy and it's time to relax and see herself the way the rest of the world sees her. She hasn't done that yet, but I'm holding out hope that she will do that soon. She deserves a break from all the self improvement projects she's done in her life.
When will I give myself that gift of acceptance? I just had a birthday and am amazed at the number. It's not a difficult birthday like the ones with zeros in them, but I'm still all over myself about how I could look better, prettier. One of my sons told me once that it wasn't fun being around a person who complained about stuff. He meant me. It was painful to hear. I was critical of this and that and he was right. (I've always thought our children first come to save us and then, second, stick around to humble us.)
I haven't given myself a birthday present yet. Maybe I'll give myself the gift of love and kindness. I could try being that lady with the wide open smiling face. The other critical me just isn't working anymore. It's time to say goodbye and embrace the change that I'd like to see in others.