Beautiful

Just this afternoon I heard James Blunt's song over the radio, and was touched by his lyrics.

You're beautiful...it's true.

I never really thought of myself as beautiful. In fact, my perception of myself falls under the category of being plain. Or common. Beautiful was far too sacred a word, and belonged only to those born with porcelain skin and chiseled facial features and long legs.

But hearing the song today reminded me of moments when I felt beautiful. Not because of how I look, but how my man looks at me. He tells me I'm beautiful. And he's probably only saying it because he loves me. So that doesn't count because love is blind. But knowing that to him I look lovely, to one person in this world I am the apple of his eye, capable of making his heart skip a beat or his knees go weak - then I feel that maybe I am beautiful. The whole world might beg to differ, but in the eyes of my man I know I am, and no other woman can be lovelier.

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I saw an ad on TV, celebrating Women's Month this March. The message was wonderful and inspiring.

My body is a work of art, beautiful in its imperfect way.

If only every woman would live by this mantra, then we would all feel beautiful. We would all be beautiful.