I was sitting with an unassuming co-worker, a man in his 70s, who caught me completely off-guard by asking me, “Do you feel more beautiful now than you did twenty years ago?”
I long for this kind of engagement, but so often I’m asked to talk about our farm or our renovations. And yet, while I love probing questions, he hit on a sensitive topic, probably the one I have the hardest time with. I couldn’t begin to gather my thoughts in one place or to think how to answer him succinctly. So I resorted to being straight with him.
I prefaced my response with the obvious: at nearly 50 I’m definitely not getting any better looking, and I’ve never felt like I could possibly relate to the “pretty” people around me. Even as a grown-up I noticed years ago I didn’t feel entitled to have cute hair or fashionable clothes, I just felt that was all for the cool moms. I just figured beauty—in its traditional sense—wasn’t going to be part of my life, like not being an Olympic athlete or trapeze artist or talk show host; it’s just never been a stand-out characteristic of mine, and so I’ve simply tried to focus on other aspects of who I am.
And yet I admitted, in answer to his question, I honestly do feel more beautiful now than I ever have. It has nothing to do with my outsides; I am getting wrinkly and saggy, more rounded in the middle section, and less and less what the world would deem physically attractive. In fact, as an ordinary middle-aged mom, I feel nearly invisible sometimes, which is actually my dream superpower.
But ironically, I feel more secure about myself now than I did when I was young and in better shape. I feel my heart softening and expanding. I’m calmer. Eager to understand and learn and admit I’m still learning. More relaxed. Interested in others. Wiser. More forgiving, accepting, open, vulnerable. Less judgmental. Less inclined to gossip. Curious. Better able to see another perspective and to recognize pain and fear behind arrogance and brashness. Not there yet. Just more aware that this is the kind of person I’m striving to be.
I remember making a list years ago, just a random sampling of skills or characteristics I wanted. One entry was “to feel beautiful.” Not that I’d have to necessarily be beautiful, but I wanted to be able to feel it. Given that I believe a large part of beauty is simply confidence, I realize I am beginning to truly feel that beauty inside.
Interestingly, it was just after this exchange a friend called. We talked for nearly an hour in the parking lot about the very idea the grandpa and I had just discussed. She’d posted pictures and thoughts recently and is on a mission to switch up the narrative we women have about our bodies, how we view them, and our outward appearances in general. Yes, of course, love it, for sure. But she’s typically beautiful. Like in a way the world would accept: young, thin, blond, attractive features, just basic good looking for our culture. Easy for her to feel confident and to be a spokeswoman for embracing ourselves as we are. I told her that and she says that’s what everyone says. :)
This topic comes up frequently between us. She knows my insecurities, and while she lives in a culturally acceptable and celebrated body, we still talk frankly. This past week we were texting more about this. I told her the whole looks/body/beauty thing is so all over the place for me. While I’m game for being vulnerable about nearly every topic she can throw at me, I hate opening up about this because it’s so personal, an area of my life where I’m not completely confident—especially around her. I’m still working on ignoring the advertising and expectations of the world, trying to really figure out how I feel, and reconciling feeling so ugly as an elementary school girl, average in high school, and just meh ever since with wanting to honestly not worry about it. There have been moments, singular instances or photos where I have felt congruence in how I’ve been portrayed with how I feel inside, but mostly I try to ignore my appearance because there’s not a thing I can do to change it. It’s very uncomfortable to me when people say my girls look like me. I have no response, I feel very awkward about acknowledging them; they are cute like in a girl-next-door way, and I have never felt that way ever.
But I don’t think pretty and beautiful are necessarily synonymous. While the world elevates and celebrates the handsome and glamorous people based on what is currently acceptable and idealized, not many in the entertainment industry are what I’d consider truly beautiful people. The definition paraded has to do with youth and body shape, which is so limiting and destructive.
I think my 73-year-old mom is attractive. And I have noticed some very striking grandmas with modern gray-white spiky short hair in on-trend classy outfits—I absolutely love this look. But others are soft and wrinkly and lumpy and sweet, the smiley warm kind with twinkly eyes you just want to cuddle up with while she reads to you, accepting, loving, cookie-making grandmas just oozing beauty. All very beautiful in their own ways.
I remember in a class years ago the man not much older than me talking about his career as a photographer. He has captured some of the most “beautiful” people in the world in his photoshoots. But he mentioned one woman in a leprosy colony. He emotionally told us, with all sincerity, that she was the most beautiful woman he has ever known. This impacted me profoundly and has stayed with me through the years, helping me notice true loveliness in people. I think we just know it when we see it. To me, it’s light, courage, authenticity, humility, contentment, confidence, resilience, selflessness, humor, and a willingness to engage, listen, and relate with others.
I’ve had several conversations with girlfriends about the incessant nonsense bombarding us and our daughters. It’s nearly unavoidable, and it takes intense strength to not get sucked into the unrealistic expectations and dramatic pulls, even as an older mom. But in spite of this backdrop, I feel like I’ve been very intentional with my daughters because I know the power of truth. I’ve tried to teach them of our worth, our identity, and how none of that is tied to appearance. We’ve talked about the purposes of our bodies, the gifts they are, humility, including others, being a true friend, working hard, trying new things, being aware of and kind to others. I love that they feel free to express themselves, that they wear little to no makeup, that while they want to take care of themselves, they embrace their bodies without any kind of degradation or even a sense of worry. We talk about being healthy, why it’s important to eat well, to sleep, to exercise, to manage stress, to look at the big picture; and I hope they’ve internalized a desire to use their bodies, strength, intellect, personalities, and minds to do good in the world, rather than using their bodies as ornaments or accessories or for attention. I feel like we’ve talked about true beauty in this sense, not ad naseam, I don’t want it to be a major discussion point, but I feel like they get it.
I love my friend’s pursuit, her quest to help women recognize they are more than what they look like on the outside. I love that the mannequins and posters in many stores are showcasing regular people with believable bodies like the real people we know and are and that their personalities seem to be the focus rather than a flawless rendition of only a body. I love that they use models of all types: freckly, petite, full-figured, long kinky hair, short funky hair, mixes and shades of skin and ethnicities from all over the world. Some of the current advertising I applaud is reminiscent of the Benneton ads from the 80s, some of my absolute favorites from my teens, so forward-thinking for the era. I feel like we are making strides in focusing on diversity as beauty, and I’m impressed with the campaigns to fight the onslaught of the counterfeit paraded as real, attainable, normal, and desirable. I love that we are making an effort to look beyond our physical appearances and that we are appreciating intellect, creativity, kindness, boldness, problem-solving, strength, tenacity, and individuality.
As I was talking with Todd on our long fall drive about the mixed messages surrounding beauty, I asked for his perspective and he asked for mine. Unexpectedly, sharing about my physical appearance stirred some very deep emotions for me. As I talked about how I felt about my physical looks I felt weak, less-than, helpless to be anything more than what I was naturally born with, resigned, like hiding. But then I explained how the older I get, the more confident I feel. I have lived a long time, and I continue to feel so much stronger and sure of myself. As I shared this perspective, I felt emboldened, calm, secure; I sensed the power of these characteristics parting the fog and cacophony of the world voices. As we continued to wade through the variables, we concluded it’s simply a matter of how we define beauty. But for us, we are less drawn to perfection and picture-perfect models and more inclined to authentic everyday people who make us laugh, who are regular with flaws and personalities, who are intent on adding their strength and gifts to the world, and who have beautiful hearts and minds. This is the beauty we believe in.
