My daughter took a photo of me.
There has been a long fought battle between myself and my confidence. I have been a woman every day of my life, and I am aware of the way I look, the way I present myself, and the way I feel about it. The moment I became a mother the desire to set a positive example of esteem, confidence, and self-care skyrocketed. I have not, though, done as well as I imagined. If I was challenged to identify a list of failures, this one takes the cake.
I am soft, I am nurturing, and I am built to do so. There are parts of me that are in direct competition with my perceived intelligence. There are plenty of things I would change. I have practiced positive self talk and I truly believe a lot of the things I tell myself. I tell my children that they are beautiful. I want them to believe every day that their bodies are amazing and capable of incredible things. As they are navigating life, this is their vessel and they should be proud. I do not want them to compare themselves to popular images of the ideal form, and it breaks my heart to think that they could ever question their value based on their appearance. They are beautiful.
I hate my nose. Contouring is an evil blessing. Please do not make me look at a still shot of my profile. Then, my daughter took a photo of me.
I am in love. Not because it is my face, but because I get to see what she sees. This was taken in a silly moment in a store floral section. My face is an intricate collection of all of the faces before me. My children are influenced by mine. I have absolutely no business modeling a facade of confidence when I still talk openly about my distaste for the shape and structure of my nose. It seems silly.
My challenge, if I dare to create one, is to let someone whose opinion is valuable to you take your picture. See what they see. Look at where the focus lies. Choose not to believe all of the negative things you tell yourself and change the direction of some of that thinking. It is a wonderful surprise.
XO – J. Eve