cliche truth: happy girls are the prettiest

Our society has this dangerous obsession with perfection.

And this might be the most cliche, unoriginal blog post I've ever written.

However, it's true. Not only are we obsessed with becoming perfect, we are obsessed with becoming unobtainable beings. The issue is especially predominant in women and our physical bodies. Whether it be about getting a "thigh gap" (like really, why are those a thing?), or scoring a pre-pregnancy body after birthing four kids.

A couple weeks ago I was scrolling through the ever-addicting procrastination pit of doom (also known as "Pinterest") and saw a picture of a mega-ripped woman. Washboard abs, defined triceps, all that jazz. On the picture were the typed words: "#reasonstoworkout To look like her."

Let's stop pretending that you can achieve the "perfect body"  by exercising and being healthy. Because you can't. Know why? Because there is no such thing as "perfect". We have not defined it, and we cannot define it. Because there is seriously no such thing as two of a kind. By chasing perfection, we are literally chasing something unobtainable, and it will only bring us grief.

Guess what? You can't look like "her". Because you are not "her". You are you. And your body will never look like someone else's. Sorry if that disappoints you. It shouldn't.

I could go to kickboxing class 5 days a week, become a marathon runner and eat only lettuce for the rest of my life and never look like the ideal pictures we see all over the internet. My hips are too wide. My shoulders are too big. I don't have a cute nose.

But I'd be my best self. And, in that way, I'd achieve my own personal "perfect". And I'd love myself more than ever. And that's why we should be embracing healthy lifestyles. Not to look a certain way, but to love ourselves. To take care of our precious bodies that house our precious souls.

I recently read in my journal about when I returned from my Philmont backpacking trek (so much talk of Philmont. Sorry guys). I came off the trail, hugged my mom and went straight to the Base Camp showers. I walked in the bathroom, dumped my stuff on the floor, and took a deep breath as I walked over to the mirror, preparing for the worst. I hadn't seen my reflection in 6 days.

My face was wrecked. The skin was chapped, scraped, peeling, and covered in a filmy layer of dirt. My hair looked like hay. I had gained weight on the trail (???). When I smiled, my skin wrinkled up because of my sunburn. On top of that, my eyes were red and wet and puffy because I may or may not have cried when I saw my mom. I'm such a softie.

But still, I smiled, because I liked what I saw. I genuinely loved who I was, and I just sat there looking at myself for a few minutes, because, well, I liked who was looking back.

You can imagine how I felt after I showered.

But there I was, with every reason to throw up in the sink over my reflection. But I didn't.

Beautiful isn't something you feel. It isn't something you are when you try to be. It isn't having a certain face, or good hair days, or even something you look like.

It's what you are.

And believe me. There are days when I look in there mirror and convince myself I'll die alone. It's something so many of us fight. But we must know that our validation cannot come from others; if we live off of man's compliments, we'll die for his criticism. And, compliments don't mean anything to us if we don't believe them ourselves.

Our validation must come from within. It is when we love ourselves that we can begin to truly love others.

So, here's to the days we'll look in the mirror and say, "Hi, me. Love you, me." May there be many more of them.