Don’t be a hard rock when you really are a gem.

lalaI’ve seen a lot of posts on IG from women along the lines of “other girls are just mad they don’t look like me” or whatever else. There’s a ton to unpack there, but I’ll say this:

If you feel as though your best accomplishment is your looks, you’re missing the bigger picture of who you are. I promise there are more interesting things about you. Your value is not based on your ability – perceived or actual – to make others jealous of your looks.

I think you’ll find that when you’re busy growing and developing your mind, your abilities, your character, your spirit, you start to realize there is no competition physically. It’s just not where the real work exists. That contest stops mattering.

I am with you that I love being called beautiful by a partner or a close friend – but it’s because when they say that, I know they’re saying it based on knowing the whole me. When they comment on my beauty, I know it’s for the whole package.

I want my partner to be attracted to every part of me, not just what’s shown in a photo. I want to know they really SEE me. That whether I’m rocking a full on freakum dress or lounging in sweats, I’m still always the beautiful me.

It’s also why comments from strangers about my looks mean nothing. They don’t know me. They could be giving the same comment to an outwardly beautiful person with the ugliest heart and it would still be the same compliment, so I don’t want it.

Taking care of the only body you get to live in is important. Taking pride in your appearance is great. But if your self worth comes down to comparing your outward appearance to others or thinking THAT’S the marker of whether or not you’re “better” than someone… What are you going to be left with when that shell of yours isn’t part of the hand you’re playing anymore?

Let’s focus on, celebrate, and lift up our and other’s best qualities – our hearts, our minds, our courage, our resilience, our compassion, our kindness, our persistence – the shit that actually matters.

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