This is how I keep my cup full A whole lotta Jesus. I find that when I don’t find my worth as a wife, a mother, and a woman through Jesus that I feel so empty and find my worth in other things. When I make time to find life through him, I do not question my worth because I am a daughter of the king He says you are more precious than rubies how do you find quiet time each day?
5 minutes ago
So I'm the type of person who rebelled from social norms early on. I resisted skirts and make up from as soon as I understood that there were gender norms that expected this of me. I wore short hair and sweats through the majority of high school and wanted to build connections with people that surpassed the way I presented myself.
I've always held onto that Tom boy, no f*#@s given version of myself. I worked a job where nearly every day I wore funky heels and dresses and still identified as a Tom boy, never a girly girl! Hell no!
The problem is, underneath all of it was/is the understanding that stereotypical beauty is not within my realm of being without a LOT of financial investments that I'm not willing to succumb too. I have the exact same insecurities that present with too much make up and boob jobs, or stained tees and ripped jeans.
I'm at a point now where I don't often think about my appearance, I recently posted that I look disheveled out in the world because I forget to look in the mirror. It's true. I used to glare at myself or pick at myself when I looked in the mirror and now if there is a mirror in my vicinity, I manage to not notice. Most of my wardrobe is chosen because of its comfort. Even my fanciest of clothes feel like pajamas on and it helps me to not just live in sweat pants like my youthful self did.
I suppose it is progress. I do choose brighter colours and more form hugging items than I ever would have before. I've recently started to at least attempt to take care of my skin with more than water and the odd bar of coconut soap, though still no plucking or cover up. I don't constantly think about every movement I make and how my legs must look huge compared to the girl next to me or my chub must be flubbing out when I sit a certain way. But the truth is,every time I see a photo of myself, I'm reminded that I'm not stereotypically attractive. And often, my mind still tells me that I'm not attractive at all. It's almost as if my rebellion against norms and stereotypes was more of a deep acceptance that my physical form would never be what people loved about me. And perhaps that made me stronger.