Accepting oneself can bring out a ‘beautiful’ person

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“Has anyone ever told you you’re beautiful?”
An unusual question to be asked by a stranger sitting in his car outside of 7-11, but one directed at me, nonetheless.
I stared at him for a second, then smiled and said, “Not today, but thank you.”
When I was in high school, I can’t remember anyone ever telling me I was beautiful or even pretty.
Looking back, I know why.
I hated who I was.
I was pathetic, superficial and depressing.
I lied to those who cared about me, I no longer believed in anything and I allowed myself to be manipulated and trampled on.
I was greedy, perpetually wanting what I couldn’t have rather than appreciating the things I did.
I was so critical of everyone and I wasn’t afraid to make my disapproval known. My comments were usually cruel, rather than supportive and my smile had a tendency to be malicious rather than encouraging.
Suspicious of everyone, I extended very little trust to anyone, especially those who really deserved it.
I walked around moping with my shoulders curled forward, my head down and darkness in my eyes.
I didn’t think I was smart enough or pretty enough or talented enough to be noticed by anyone for anything.
I was never the best, and knowing that, I was determined to change.
I stared at myself in the mirror and saw an absolute monster. I had a hard time living with myself, so how could anyone else possibly bear to live with me? Feeling frustrated, I focused on molding myself into “magazine beautiful” – a meager attempt at some self-gratification.
I did it all: crash diets, diet pills, refusing to eat, limiting what foods I ate, running obscene distances and turning everything I did into a workout.
I was always changing my style of clothing, how I wore my hair and experimenting with makeup on a regular basis.
I cried so much because I simply wasn’t happy with myself. I dreaded rain and humidity because my hair frizzed, my skin was always breaking out and I hated the shape of my body.
People see me so differently now, and it’s so ironic because for the most part, I look exactly the same.
I don’t know how or when it changed or even what my thought process was, but sometime between then and now, I just got fed up.
I got tired of crying, tired of starving, tired of hurting and tired of hating.
I realized that I will never be perfect, never have the ideal body and never be the best according to the rest of the world.
But I could be the best person according to my own personal standards.
Establishing those standards based on what made me truly happy was a long, painful process, but somehow I stumbled along until I was pleased with the result.
I learned how to pick and choose my battles. I no longer argued for altercation’s sake. I didn’t feel a passionate, dire need to prove anything to the rest of the world.
I allowed myself to be hurt, to forgive, to be hurt again, and even walk away from what I was unable to fix.
I discovered the meaning of humanity and compassion and understood that my words and behavior had an indisputable impact on other people. I had the power to make someone’s day or break their heart and for the first time I chose to be uplifting.
I realized perfection is boring, but diligence is admirable, so I worked hard at what I was passionate about and let the rest simmer on the back burner.
I learned how to say “I’m sorry,” and to accept apologies from others without making myself vulnerable.
I began reading people, but most importantly, I learned how to read myself by following through with my intuitions and really paying attention to what and how I was feeling.
Now the words, “You’re beautiful” carry a different weight and a different meaning than they once did because I’m content with the various elements of my persona that define me.
I tried so hard for so long to improve my appearance, failing to recognize that as long as I was bitter and ugly on the inside, those characteristics would not be able to hide behind anything I tried to exhibit externally.
Everything I am and everything I feel radiates from me. Refusing to recognize that is only cheating myself.
I walked out of 7-11 that day illuminated with happiness, satisfaction, contentment and acceptance of the person I have become.
My friends tell me I “glow” when I’m happy and right there in that parking lot I felt just plain good.
“Has anyone ever told you you’re beautiful?”
Now I think I know what he sees.
LIFE Editor Melissa Grunow can be reached with comments
via e-mail at gruno1ml@cmich.edu.