Beauty
Beautiful. A long time ago I came to the realization that I'm not the type of pretty that I'm attracted to, I will likely never look in the mirror and see myself as beautiful. Beauty is really in the eye of the beholder everyone is beautiful in their own right no matter what anyone else says.
As a little girl I would dress up and twirl pretending that I was beautiful. As a teenager I was angsty and no one really was looking. I didn't have anyone to encourage me to care about my appearance but every once in awhile I would try. I recall putting on a fancy dress and doing my makeup. I really tried and I proudly went up to my dad and asked him if I was beautiful my dad said 'No, you are cute like your mother' I knew in that instant no matter what I did I wouldn't be beautiful.
I was devasted but realistic. My dad married my 'cute' mother I convinced myself I didn't need to be beautiful. I would always be short, freckled and thick.
Several years later my dad told me he regretted saying that and that I was beautiful but the damage was done, I knew he spoke the truth because my father always spoke the truth to me (I was 6 when I asked about santa, it was my brother who tried to keep that magic alive).
I know that my heart and soul are beautiful. I see myself as strong, independent, and determined. But I still have that secret little girl dream of being beautiful.