Dear woman, I hope you wake up this morning and smile at your reflection in the mirror. And not because you are perfect, not because you have everything figured out and your life is fully together, not because you never make mistakes or fall down, but because you realize that there is not a single soul on this earth that looks, thinks, feels, and loves the way you do.
And that is so damn beautiful.
The face staring back at you might have blemishes. The skin might be wrinkled, might be tired, might be pale. There might be pimples, scratches, scars. There might be bags under your eyes, or last night’s makeup smeared in the corner. There might be a sadness that speaks through your turned-down smile.
You might not love what you see, and that’s okay. Life is an endless battle for self-love, a continual journey of finding and re-defining yourself. And whether you’re ‘succeeding’ or ‘failing’ by the world’s standards does not determine your worth.
You are not going to celebrate every single moment; you are not always going to exude confidence and joy, and that doesn’t mean you’re lacking; it means you’re human. What matters is that you keep going, keep trying, keep curving up the corners of your lips when you look at yourself, keep believing that you are deserving of love because you are.
Imperfection doesn’t change that.
You might be tall or short, skinny or curvy, gentle or wild, sporty or feminine, single or in a relationship—but those are just descriptions; they don’t make up who you are. Whether you love to sing or enjoy gardening, into trucks or painting toe nails, love to run or would rather watch a movie—these are things that make you, but they don’t define the person you are, or are capable of becoming.
Dear woman, I hope you put on clothes that make you feel comfortable rather than what you think someone else will like. I hope you take photographs (or don’t) without continually comparing to people on a screen. I hope you cook or write or draw because you love to, regardless what someone says. I hope you learn to treat yourself like a friend, one you console and comfort and encourage because you know how incredible they are.
I hope you quit letting your failed relationships determine your self-worth or the love you’re so deserving of. I hope you know that the way someone treats you doesn’t have to become a label that you wear. I hope you break free from people who make you feel as if you are less. I hope you speak positive words to yourself until you believe them.
You are worthy. You are loved. You are strong.
Dear woman, I hope you know that beauty is not something that can be so easily defined. Beauty is found in the way you laugh, in the way you pursue what you’re passionate about, in the way you spread your love, in the way you work hard and keep going, even when you don’t want to.
You might fall down, you might break, you might make a mistake, lose a job, have a failed marriage, get your heart broken, go through something terrible—but none of these things are your identity.
Who you choose to be, choose to become, how you decide to move forward, the way you forgive, your ability to love again—those things will speak to your character more than any loss or imperfection ever will.
Dear woman, you are beautiful. Not because you have everything figured out, not because you shine with confidence in every step, not because you never make mistakes, not because you are a perfect-looking and acting person.
But because you are unique.
Because you have a way of thinking that is unlike anyone you’ll ever meet. Because how you love is inherent within you, and no one can change or take that away from you. Because you experience things differently, feel differently.
Because the laughter, the drive, the soul, the person you are cannot be replicated.
And that’s what makes you beautiful. The fact that there is not a single person on this planet who is just like you—the imperfect, complex, messy, wonderful you.