M
y husband loves the sea.
When he asked me to be his girlfriend, I told him
that he might have to reconsider, because there
was something he didn’t know about me. After a
dead silence haunted us for what seemed to take
forever, I finally mustered the courage to make
my confession....
I didn’t like the sea. To be honest, I still don’t.
I always feel like a tiny, vulnerable ant trying to
battle the gigantic, monstrous waves, a battle I
seldom win.
Not only that, I don’t like the beach. When I see
the golden brown bodies lying next to me I always feel this desperate urge to cover myself with
twenty towels, which you can’t really do in the
scorching sun. Most girls seem very confident in
their bikinis, walking around like models on the
catwalk, unaware of the attention they are getting - or “not getting.” But I am not one of them.
Insecurities flood my mind, comparison keeps me
company and I always leave the beach with one
nagging question:
Am I beautiful?
I once mentioned this inner turmoil to one of my
friends after being rejected by a guy during my
Varsity years. She looked at me with a “what’s
the big deal” expression and responded with a
very blunt: “Stick a piece of paper on your mirror
with the words “I am beautiful” written on it and
look at it every morning.” I left the conversation
thinking I must be the only woman in the world
struggling with this ridiculous question. Later on I
found out that according to Stacey Eldrige in her
book Captivating, most women ask themselves
this universal question.
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Some churches attempt to answer this complicated question by teaching that God focuses more
on the inner beauty than the outer beauty. I always found some comfort in the statement, until
I