Feeling Beautiful

Our society puts an emphasis on "being" beautiful, especially for women.

I have come to learn that being beautiful and feeling beautiful are two distinctly different things.

When do I feel most beautiful?

First a backstory, about why I always felt un-beautiful.

I grew up in a family of women with blonde hair (not naturally) so soon as I was of age, I dyed my hair blonde too. (Maybe part of their "American Dream" was having an "all American" looking child, which should be the antithesis of American, but that is another post.)

My first boyfriend at 19 staring into my eyes told me he had never dated someone with brown eyes. I asked if he liked them, he said. "I wish they were blue."

I entered the entertainment industry at 22. Looking for validation from the outside in.

I was told to lie about my age, 22 was "too old".

That was the first in decades of "toos."

I was too short, too Jewish, and too flat-chested.

And yet somehow not enough. Not pretty enough, young enough, voluptuous enough.

I now note, talent was never mentioned.

I remember getting one of my first acting roles and being told, "You definitely weren't the prettiest girl in the room, but you do have something."

Even in the acceptance, I was condemned.

I straightened my hair, lost weight, gained weight, and got Botox.

Fast forward at 34, the constant rejection from auditions was eating my soul.

So I got a tattoo.

Then I got more tattoos and bigger tattoos.

At least being rejected would be my choice.

And then I stopped acting.

(Although many years later I realized, although not professionally, I was still acting.)

And now I am 52. After decades of lying about my age, it is scary to say.

I got sick, left Los Angeles, my brother (only sibling and anchor) died.

I let go of my career, my parents are aging, I have yet to make friends in my new "home."

I deal with this solo.

I found strength, inner strength, for a long time hidden worrying about mundane things (although there is still a long way to go.)

I let my curly hair fly, said goodbye to my padded bras, threw out the high heels that made me a whopping 5'4". I got more tattoos. I gained 20 pounds.

I had dressed in slimming blacks and Spanx for years.

Now I go braless, wear granny panties (oh the joy of granny panties!)

Most of the time I leave the house unadorned (thank you pandemic!)

I feel oddly at peace.

When I'm at peace I feel beautiful.

Not because of HOW I look. But because I know that I deserve to be seen, no matter how I look.

We all do.

We all do.

And we are beautiful.