I hate the mirror.
I know I shouldn't.
I know that I'm supposed to look in that reflective piece of glass and "love the skin I'm in," or whatever tired cliche is in fashion at the current moment.
But I don't.
I feel unpretty.
I look in the mirror and I see a sea of imperfections...so many things that might not even be visible to others...
...things that make me cringe and ache for a rock to shatter the mirror into a million razored shards, despite the stigma of bad luck..
...because even bad luck would be better than counting my flaws one by one until I run out of fingers and toes upon which to keep a tally.
I look at my female friends, the beautiful people with whom I surround myself, and I ache to share their looks...
I want to banish my curves to the back of the closet, and to fit in their size 2 jeans...to toss a head of smooth, silky hair...to slip my feet into normal sized shoes instead of those of my ten year old sister-in-law...to reach the top shelf at the bookstore instead of having to ask a taller clerk to assist me.
I just want to be beautiful. Just for a minute.
It's a struggle. It's a painful ache that throbs at the core of my soul.
But then, Truth begins to push its way past the boulders of my own self-shame.
...I know He sees my flaws. Those things I hate about myself, the things I would call "ugly."
He calls me by name.
He is the lifter of my head, drawing my eyes from my own reflection to His glory.
He is beautiful. And I am His daughter, His chosen one.
Made in His image. Lost in His wonder.
Time and again,
He makes me beautiful.
"You make me beautiful / You make me stand in awe / You step inside my heart, and I am amazed / I love to hear You say / Who I am is quite enough / You make me worthy of love / and beautiful." ~Beautiful, Bethany Dillon