Style. I don’t have any of that. I try very hard and you can usually tell.
As a kid, my mother picked my clothes for an unreasonable length of time. I still refuse to show people the photos. After gaining my freedom, I started wearing fedoras. Not once in a while, every single day. I think they helped me hide.
I find the new trend toward wearing things that look vintage and haphazard appealing. I love the look of a dash of color amidst dark colors and the hint of menswear in the midst of feminine attire. Alas, I cannot quite pull it off. I look like a child or a mental patient, who does not know which colors and styles go together and which ones clash.
But, to be honest, I think too much about my clothes. How I look. I think we all do. We all want so much to be beautiful. I will look in every reflective surface and re-analyze the contraption I have on each day. What I left the house feeling pretty in, becomes clownish under my critical eye. The way I do my hair seems the best one day but looks grotesque the next.
It hampers my courage and prevents me from speaking to some people seen as more beautiful and thus better than I. I believed once I found an amazing guy who thought I was attractive, suddenly I would believe it and self-conscious would disappear.
I have. It did not.
I think this flaw permeates our society. Everyone thinks they look too old or too young. Even the most beautiful of us are plagued with doubts. It causes great pain.
I’ve heard that most self-consciousness comes from comparing our behind the scenes with everyone else’s highlight reels. And I think that’s true. We do not see ourselves when our eyes shine with excitement or when the light falls just perfectly across our cheeks. We see only bad pictures and bed-tangled hair.
Somehow we have to just let go. We are what we are. Maybe we aren’t beautiful but we are unique. We are fascinating. We are more than what others think of us. We are loved.
We are flowers in the garden of this world. We do not look down on flowers for being the wrong color or having a petal that is not quite the right size or is shorter than the flower next to it. We see that they are all beautiful. And so are we.
We are stars and earth, breathed into life by the mouth of the Almighty God who draws the sunsets and gives flight to the birds. We are masterpieces.