Maybe you’re good. But every now and then I find myself in one of those funks. And I don’t know if it’s in everyone’s circles, but it’s all over the place here. Maybe it’s the age of the people I hang out with. Maybe it’s trendy. Maybe I read too much. It just feels like everyone is being so careful, so engaged, so healthy. They’re dieting and exercising, running marathons and those special (ninja?) courses, going to the gym at all hours of the day, no sugar, no bread. All fit and looking good.
I majored in health. I get being healthy, I’m totally on board. We’re like most of you, it’s nothing new, it’s just habit, it’s the life we’ve lived for as long as I can remember. I think I started paying attention to being healthy back in like 1988. So I don’t get what the current health craze is all about. I’m glad we’re addressing some of these issues and taking better care of our bodies, but it’s a little tough on me. Am I jealous?
I think so. I’m nearly 45. I’ve had five kids. I spend an hour or less working out every day. I eat cookies. Sometimes after lunch and dinner. I don’t have a six pack. But who would know? And who would care? I like to wear clothes that amply cover my belly and not stick to it. I like jeans that suck in a little extra. I don’t have big muscles. And I haven’t run a race since high school. So no, I’m not all that svelte. And I don’t usually care.
But the past summer (maybe let’s be honest and say year), I’ve had a hard time. Maybe it’s because my friends here and all over the internet have done awesome with their weight loss success stories. I haven’t lost 100 pounds, I’ve weighed the same since forever, and deep down I think I’d love a major transformation like them. Maybe it’s because my wrinkles are becoming more prominent while others around me never seem to age a day. Maybe because I’d been growing out my hair and everyone else is too but they look great in long hair. Maybe because I’ve had to color it so much more often. Maybe I’m in a rut. Maybe this is what it feels like to be middle-aged. I have no idea why I’d been feeling so blah. I blame satan.
I know he knows me. I’m not going to mess around with most serious things. I’m not taking chances with the big stuff. But he knows he can get to us by making us feel insecure about how we look, I think that tactic works with most everyone. That he can get me to question myself and the decisions I’ve made, making me wonder if I’m missing the boat. That he can make me sad about growing older and becoming more and more invisible.
So as I headed off to Education Week* with my mom and some friends last month, I had this question in the back of my mind and in my prayers. Help me feel what’s real. Help me re-focus on what You think beauty is and where I should put my efforts. Like I’ve told you all before, I don’t think we necessarily have to be beautiful, we just need to feel it. There’s a difference. Models are definitively beautiful, but so are little twirling girls who think they are. We can’t all subscribe to the arbitrary and changing standards of the world, but we can all feel beautiful. It’s in our minds. And in our eyes. And in our hearts.
And I know that. But I hadn’t been feeling it for a very long time. I don’t know if it’s because I’ve been inundated with cultural cues for so long or because so many people around me are becoming more fit and more careful about their choices and finding results and looking better. I just felt I had nothing more to give, I was doing the best I could with what I had to work with and with the philosophy I believe in and it was all I had. I know what really matters, we all do. I could give a pep talk in my sleep to any teenaged girl about true beauty. I was just in a slump and needed a pep talk of my own. From God.
So as I chose classes, I prayed. Because I wanted to feel something. I wanted Heavenly Father to help me remember what I mean to Him and where I should spend my time and energy this fall.
I couldn’t believe it when my questions were answered specifically and personally throughout the week.
I won’t go into all the details of all the classes I took, but speakers from a variety of topics touched my heart and confirmed to me that beauty is how we live our lives and that our most important successes are all about our relationships. I couldn’t believe how such diverse classes would come back to teach me basically the same principle. It was incredibly touching and I was overcome with gratitude.
One woman taught specifically about beauty and touched on the power of sensuality, which is what our culture teaches women to capitalize on. It’s true, she said—and I completely agree, that there is power in looking and dressing sensual. A woman will draw attention and be noticed and will gain the approval of others. And that’s exciting to think of being that powerful. But I don’t know that deep down that’s really what we’re looking for as women. I think we also want respect. And to make a difference in meaningful ways.
I loved the blog she referred to written by Pat Archbold called The Death of Pretty,
I define pretty as a mutually enriching balanced combination of beauty and projected innocence.
Once upon a time, women wanted to project an innocence. I am not idealizing another age and I have no illusions about the virtues of our grandparents, concupiscence being what it is. But some things were different in the back then. First and foremost, many beautiful women, whatever the state of their souls, still wished to project a public innocence and virtue. And that combination of beauty and innocence is what I define as pretty.
By nature, generally when men see this combination in women it brings out their better qualities, their best in fact. That special combination of beauty and innocence, the pretty inspires men to protect and defend it.
Young women today do not seem to aspire to pretty, they prefer to be regarded as hot. Hotness is something altogether different. When women want to be hot instead of pretty, they must view themselves in a certain way and consequently men view them differently as well.
As I said, pretty inspires men’s nobler instincts to protect and defend. Pretty is cherished. Hotness, on the other hand, is a commodity. Its value is temporary and must be used. It is a consumable.
But most of us know that’s not true beauty or power, even as we’re constantly pummeled with contrary ideas that make us question. And so we talked about what is. We all know women and have friends who radiate true beauty. They are worthy of respect, they are confident because they aren’t seeking approval from others, but from God and themselves. They are praiseworthy and virtuous and modest and they radiate light. What I love about this power is that others can feel Christ’s love through us when we are this kind of person.
I knew, again, as I listened during the week, that this is the kind of person I wanted to be. I felt this desire coursing through me the entire week, gaining momentum and strengthening my resolve to focus on what really matters. Of course we all want to be attractive and to look our best. And truly, I think we should put in the effort to do so. There is absolutely nothing wrong with using makeup, with being fit and eating well; I’m actually completely impressed with my friends who are making such amazing strides. (Like I admitted before, I honestly think I’m just jealous.) But I believe our efforts should be not so we can use our bodies as power tools but as instruments to serve.
By the end of the week I felt empowered rather than uncertain. All the lines satan had been feeding me vanished. I want shiny, sparkly eyes, not because I’ve mastered great make up techniques, but because I’m happy and confident and because they reflect love. I was thrilled to hear this message over and over during the week when I was less distracted and more able to ascertain what was real.
So I’ve come back, interestingly, wanting to be just a little healthier like all my friends. (Although you know I’m not nearly as hard-core; there’s no way I’m giving up See’s or malts or bread!) At the same time, I feel strong remembering that beauty is deeper than my little fat rolls around my belly or my freckles that have morphed into age spots. It’s more than a number on the scale or on the tags of my clothes. I was reminded that I need to really believe in what true beauty is so I can live it for my daughters. I feel kind of floaty, like the heaviness of thinking about all this has been lifted. I feel renewed and purposeful, thrilled with my pep talk from God.
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