Do You Think I’m Beautiful? My Journey to Self-Love

I’ve been reading the book “Do You Think I’m Beautiful?” by Angela Thomas. Somehow, this week I’ve found myself asking that question more times than I can count.
Am I beautiful? Am I pretty?
I can’t remember the last time I looked in a mirror and admired myself. Anytime I do, all I see are flaws. Why are my shoulders so wide? Why don’t I have a flat tummy? Am I too big? Do I look fat? These thoughts don’t stop there.
A few days ago, I was on a call with Catherine, a very good friend of mine and a fellow paraplegic. This question popped up in our conversation, and I found myself asking her, “Catherine, do you think you are beautiful?”
Her response was heartfelt and raw. “Do I feel beautiful? Honestly, it depends on the day. Some days I wake up in high spirits, and not even the scars on my legs faze me. But other times, more often than I can count, I wake up feeling ugly. Sometimes I’ll just lay on my bed and count the number of scars on my body, from surgical scars to those from bedsores, and even the invisible scars from hating my situation and my body. Time and time again, I’ve asked myself if anyone finds me attractive. And even if they do, do they mean it? Are they just trying to stroke my ego and make me feel better about myself? I’ve doubted words from even the closest of friends because, deep down, I’ve convinced myself that I look horrendous.”
Her answer surprised me, yet I could relate to every word she said. These are the unsaid thoughts, the fears that most of us cannot get over.
Just the other day, I tried on a new top and trousers, and an hour later, I was regretting my outfit choice. My arms looked constricted and huge. I couldn’t hide my thinning legs from myself or the people around me. Did the stares I received mean I looked drop-dead gorgeous, or did they simply mean people didn’t like what they saw?
I’ve tried letting go of these feelings for years, but it has proven impossible. Time and time again, I find myself back in that mindset.
But now, I am beginning to realize something crucial. The scars from the bedsores are not signs of ugliness but symbols of strength. My thinner legs show the resilience and power they have provided me all these years. My broad shoulders are there to help me push my chair.
Every time I look in the mirror now, I see an embodiment of a beautiful African woman. My curves are perfectly shaped, my hips are the perfect size, my tummy is beautiful, and the scars on my body? Heck, those are tattoos of beauty. They show that despite everything my body has gone through, it persevered. It conquered. Those scars are a reminder of the battles I’ve won. They are medals for all that I have conquered along the way.
It’s been a journey to get to this point of self-acceptance. There were countless nights spent crying and questioning my worth. I’ve had to silence the critical voices in my head that told me I wasn’t good enough or beautiful enough. And it wasn’t an overnight transformation. It took time, patience, and a lot of self-love.
I started to surround myself with positive influences. I read books that empowered me, listened to music that uplifted my spirits, and spent time with people who saw my inner beauty and helped me see it too. Catherine and I often have heart-to-heart talks about our struggles, but we also celebrate our victories, no matter how small they seem.
I began to focus on what my body can do rather than what it looks like. My arms, strong and capable, allow me to maneuver my wheelchair and embrace the people I love. My legs, though thinner now, have carried me through so much and continue to be a part of my journey. Each scar tells a story of survival, resilience, and triumph.
When I see my reflection now, I don’t just see the physical traits. I see a warrior who has fought and continues to fight. I see a woman who has faced adversity and come out stronger. I see beauty in my imperfections because they make me who I am.
This shift in perspective didn’t come easily. There are still days when those old insecurities creep back in. But I’ve learned to counter them with affirmations of self-love and acceptance. I remind myself of my worth and beauty, both inside and out.
I want to share this journey with others who may be struggling with similar feelings. It’s important to talk about these insecurities and not bottle them up. When we share our stories, we realize we’re not alone. We find strength in our shared experiences and support in our shared struggles.
So, do I think I’m beautiful? Yes, I do. Not in the conventional sense that society often dictates, but in my own unique way. I see beauty in my strength, my resilience, and my ability to love and be loved. I see beauty in my journey and the woman I’ve become.
And to anyone reading this who might be feeling the same way, know that you are beautiful too. Your scars, your struggles, your triumphs all make you the incredible person you are. Embrace your beauty, cherish your journey, and never let anyone, including yourself, make you feel less than amazing.
Remember, true beauty comes from within. It’s in our kindness, our strength, and our ability to persevere. It’s in the way we love ourselves and others. So next time you look in the mirror, don’t focus on your perceived flaws. Look deeper and see the beautiful, strong, and resilient person staring back at you.
Yes, it does get better. Day by day, it gets better. Just give it a little more time.