The me I see in the mirror looks different these days.
The fine lines crease around my eyes. My pale skin begs for a good helping of spinach, as my mom used to say. And there are jowls taking up residence on my hips.
But I’ve always looked this way. There are no changes here.
The change is my perception of God and His conception of me.
In October, I weighed in at a post-op appointment. The needle on the scale rested on 107. The number floored me so much that I nearly contested the weight. Had I guessed, I would’ve said 130, maybe 135. I remember sitting on the white paper they use to line those examination tables, waiting for my surgeon to come in. I wondered how someone who only weighed 107 could still think she looked overweight. Could still despise the sight of her own self…
I came home that day and cried. Cried cause of the loss of a baby, cried cause of a twisted self-image, cried cause I didn’t want to propagate this hate anymore. How would my daughter ever know her own beauty, the signature of her Maker, if her mom could not accept it? If her mom railed against it every time she stared back at herself…
It was this day, this moment, that birthed healing for me. And I will continue to grow towards wholeness for the sake of my daughter. She wants to be just like me, she wants to be just like me. I can choose to perpetuate the self-hatred or I can choose to give her the gift of beauty. Beauty that dances outside of the realms of this culture’s gross obsession. Beauty that recognizes her Maker’s design and identifies it as good, very good.
These days the fine lines crease around my eyes. And they laugh with delight and joy. I have smiled and I have smiled and I have smiled some more.
My pale skin begs for a good helping of spinach, as my mom used to say. And that shouts of health. I no longer need toxic doses of the sun or the occasional tanning bed to make me feel good about myself. I love the color of the skin I’m in, finally.
And then there are the jowls, jowls I now treasure. They speak of carrying two lives into the world. Two amazing and healthy and intricately designed lives, made beautiful by the fingerprints of their Creator.
My Creator, who has written redemption all over the place.
All over me, even in these fine lines.