The Telling Of Beauty

You know, I'm more convinced than ever that this world is what makes it hard for me to live in my own skin. It is not the other people in it, necessarily, as much as it is their evolution (mine included) into a product of what our society deems is worthy of attention; whether that is being rich, beautiful, fit, or the likewise. Take for instance, the moment that just occurred.

If you have ever ventured onto any website, even such as this one, on which one could attach a personal photo of themselves, you know I do not have to even venture into the explanation of the sometimes painful and yet common humor there is in the world of "profile pics." But more than the absurdness of angles and poses all meant to capture the most ideal essence of a person, is the grief I am sometimes overcome with in the motivation behind these.

I was on Facebook, you know, that crazy college directory that connects everybody to their college friends, acquaintances, and complete strangers (not to mention their third grade best friends). So here I am, clicking away, when something caught my eye - and broke my heart. There is this person I know, this amazing girl who is so incredibly smart and beautiful in a way that charms even the meanest of souls. She is bright and bubbly, and there is this very sweet demeanor she has as an extension of her faith. I do not tell her nearly enough how wonderful I think she is, and yet her picture, however, tells me just who does.

A toned, tan midriff and a beautiful smile are nothing to take lightly; most anyone would admire these and rightfully so - it's attractive. Plain and simple, that is what is found to be attractive in this world, or at least that's what I hear. So anyways, I see this picture and there's this inner struggle, because it's not the first time she's had a picture like this, and it's not the first time I have felt unattractive just looking at it. But it's the first time I instantly dismissed that feeling because I know, for a fact, that's just truly not the way in which God intends for us to be seen as beautiful.

Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting;
but a woman who fears the LORD is to be praised. -Proverbs 31:30

And the feeling that remains, though partially sad, is a frustrated determination. I want the world to stop telling her, and me, and you... to believe that the means that are necessary to an end of being noticed, validated, and told your worth are ones such as these. Ones such as a mingling of pixels and portrayals that could never do true beauty justice. And that's just that; I don't know how to tell the world this, but maybe I should start by telling her.

Or telling anyone I know.