Yesterday, I walked out of a meeting, feeling great. I had been smart, articulate, and diplomatic. I thought, "You know what? I'm pretty darn good at my job." Guess what else? I felt beautiful. I know. Strange right? What did professional success have to do with my perception of a physical self. I'm not completely sure. But I know this, smart girls are pretty too. And yesterday, I thought, Yup, I might actually be beautiful.
Okay, to be fair, it's not that I thought this for the first time. I'm not an idiot. But I recognize that I'm a Mary Ann not a Ginger. I've always been cute in an endearing, wholesome, girl next door kind of way. In my acting days, I was the ingenue. The Emily Webb. The Juliet. And, I was fine with that. Hell, I relished that. But you know what? I've got something else goin' on too. Yup, I think I might actually be beautiful.
It's got to be motherhood. It's being seen through your child's eyes. Though he's too early to say it, I know that the turtle thinks his mama is the most gorgeous creature on earth. And I'm starting to buy it too. Yup, I might actually be beautiful.