I wasn’t beautiful 10 years ago. I was a scrawny kid with awkward shoulders, skinny long legs and a terribly tiny head. Ugly as a toad; that’s how I saw myself.
This grody self image didn’t stop me from being part of the hot clique in primary school, or the ‘bold’ junior in secondary school because, every shame, every sense of deprivation was channeled into creating a macho image.
Since I wasn’t beautiful, I had to make everyone see me as a powerful person; they had to need me, appreciate me, fear me even. But, no matter how strong I appeared on the outside, within me, I was weak, sad, envious. I was an angry girl.
My anger had its own life and personality. It literally did whatever it wanted without seeking my opinion. This anger made people careful around me. I wasn’t liked, but I couldn’t be hated so most people kept me as an ally. I knew then that I had very few true friends, but I didn’t understand why…I really wanted everyone to like me, yet they didn’t.
Eventually, I concluded that you are liked only if you are beautiful or rich. To establish my theory, I began to observe the liked people (juniors, seniors, mates, teachers)…It was a serious matter. Then I started asking questions like “Is she beautiful?” “Is she rich?” “Why do they like her?”. I wasn’t ready for the truth I got…Or maybe I was.
As you might have guessed, some people were liked even though they weren’t ‘Disney princesses’ or ‘daughters of Dangote’. They were liked because they were nice, obedient, gentle, neat, intelligent etc. Ha! I was even angrier. How can you like someone just because she allows others walk over her and dislike me that ‘fights’ for her rights?
During class conversations, we would argue about who was most beautiful/who had the straightest legs. We usually just settled for the human with the highest votes. However, reaching a consensus on the smartest, nicest, dirtiest or nastiest person was always straightforward.
I was beginning to learn more about life, and even though I didn’t understand fully, I was learning that the power of physical beauty paled in comparison to that of character.
I still wanted to be beautiful and accepted, so I kept searching for answers. Then I discovered Karen Kingsbury, Francine Rivers and Lori Wick. Their novels didn’t just tell stories; they unraveled the meaning of beauty.
The most impactful part of my soul-searching journey however, was a girls’ program I attended in church. I met girls that the world would call ugly doing excellent things. The singers, the actresses, the drummers, the fashion designers…I saw many of them thriving in their gifts, and I wanted to be them. Not the girl with a spotless face or the girl with a perfect figure, but the girl confident in herself and thriving in her place.
Many people like the old me get so lost in outward beauty that they forget a man’s true beauty is in his substance. How many beauty queens are in the world records for great achievements? Mother Theresa, Martin Luther King, even Jesus Christ aren’t remembered for their beauty. It’s the things they did they are celebrated for.
If you think you are ugly, then the world will see you in that light. But if you smile and act like you have the best face with the ‘bardest’ body, then the world will start to see your beauty.
I guess what I am trying to say is, we can’t all be Monalisa, but we can all be Mother Theresa and which would you rather be? Hone your skills, walk tall, educate yourself, speak and command respect and even the Agbanis of this world will ask you for beauty advice.
Should you desire to have a spotless face? Is cute a sin? Defintely not. Even I love a proper face beat. The problem is how you see yourself outside the contour, how you judge those without the ‘right' skin tone.
When you begin to judge yourself and others based on these transient things, you have a problem. A black shiny Mercedes without an engine is no good to anyone.
My shoulders are still broad, I am still skinny, but I am not a toad. I am a beautiful woman of substance who won’t stop until it can be said of her, “she left footprints on the sands of time”.
Do you truly understand the concept of self love and the fickleness of what most call beauty?