One of the boys. That was the identity I conformed to since I was a teenager.
But deep inside that boyish nature, I fantasized for a Prince Charming to come and tell me I’m beautiful, make me feel like a woman… because I didn’t feel that way.
However I didn’t notice that people do appreciate my beauty.
When someone would tell me that I look beautiful, I would shrug them off and laugh.
Until a friend told me to just say thank you and accept the compliment graciously.
Since then I stopped my automatic programming of shutting off compliments.
It was only when I turned 32 years old that I saw myself as beautiful.
I didn't change my face but I saw that I really am beautiful. I appreciated the person I see in the mirror, regardless of any blemishes and imperfections. I wore womanly clothes and walked like a woman, so I felt like a true woman.
I am beautiful and I am a woman.
I realized I didn’t need someone else to tell me the truth.
Because I won’t believe anyone else if I don’t believe it first.
