some thoughts on beauty, aimed at the ladies

Here's some self-deprecation, but don't worry - this is a happy post:

I've been thinking about beauty a lot lately. Maybe it's because my hormones from breastfeeding (bye, bye, male readers) this past year have caused dark patches of skin to appear on my face, and those patches just happen to be on my upper lip so it looks like I have a mustache. And not a cool hipster trendy mustache, but a sad, preteen-boy-who-hasn't-learned-to-shave-yet mustache. Or maybe it's because I just stopped breastfeeding a couple weeks ago so now I'm back to being flatter than a disappointing pancake. Or maybe it's because I'm tired of my wardrobe, which has recently started to be a humdrum rotation of a handful of items, most of which make me feel frumpy. Oh. Ennui.

Here's what I do, though:

I think about all of these things for approximately ten minutes each morning. While I'm attempting (and failing) to cover up my fauxstache with makeup. As I'm slinging on a slightly padded bra. When I'm yawning at my closet and resigning myself to wearing a tee-shirt and jeans for the sixth day in a row. But once all that is done, I stop thinking about it. If I pass a mirror, I don't stop to ogle and criticize myself. I don't tote around a makeup bad to touch up my face sporadically throughout the day. 

See? I'm GORGEOUS. Photo by Mikkele.

Here's why:

This is just terrible, but I have a pretty close friend who I found remarkably unattractive at first sight. As I got to know her, though, I saw that she was truly beautiful, and not just with some vague inner beauty, though that's probably what revealed the outer beauty to me. I noticed her perfect and infectious smile, kind eyes, fun hair, lovely feet even! So I've made snap judgements of physical appearances, but I've never let looks come in the way of knowing someone. 

With all that in mind, I realized that the people for whom I want to look beautiful are those I love and who love me. And those who love me will find me some version of beautiful no matter what. Therefore, I do try to be the best version of myself when I start my day, but I choose not to dwell on it.

Here's my point:

Everyone is loved, of this I am certain. God makes it clear that He loves us all, and besides Him, there are one's friends, family, co-workers, barista, postman, therapist, and/or cats. So since everyone is loved, everyone is beautiful. I wish there was a non-cheesy way to say it, but there you have it.

Feel beautiful today.

And if we see each other soon, please try not to look directly at my fauxstache.

Falling into . . .

Our green stroller crunches along the sidewalk over crisp dry leaves. Green snow dances all around us as a soft breeze drifts through full branches blanketing the sky above us. Green ivy camoflouges itself against a red brick building. 

Even as life slips from the extremities of these tall giants, they appear to burst with the fire of a new life. We make the surprising discovery that orange and purple are shades of green. 

This burst of color, this snap of fresh air feels like new life to me. To my mind, based on my experience, this is the sign that good things are coming. The harsh sun, the thick humidity, the unrelenting temperatures will break, if even only for a matter of weeks. A reprieve from the summer heat. A reminder of childhood autumns, the climax of full sensory beauty. 

We can not get enough of the beautiful sight. If we are not outdoors enjoying the way sound travels through crisp air, the way bright leaves feel under our eager feet, we are gazing at the beauty from indoors. I wonder how many thousands of writers have tried to capture this seasonal, fleeting moment in a net of words. Enough to make me feel silly for trying.

And yet, as my eyes widen, and my smile beams, I see the gazes around me squinch beneath furrowed brows. The words pouring forth from my heart do not seem to capture the sentiments that surround me. 

Here, in our first year in New England, autumn is falling all around us. And for our neighbors who know how to live life in this place, it is not the dawning of reprieve, it is the slippery slope into the dark winter months. It is the beginning of the end. 

But so it is. Death and life. More closely knit than we ever want to admit. At times, indistinguishable. At times, inextricable. Are we foolish to soak in the energy and the sense of life, in face of the pending darkness? What is it we are falling into?