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  • I have not felt beautiful for a long time.

    I feel old and fat and ugly.

    I hate pictures of myself; I do not look like the beautiful, lithe creature I image myself being.

    But some things happened that changed my mind--a little.
  • I tell my husband that he is beautiful, that he is handsome, and that he is sexy, and I mean it.

    He is beautiful, handsome, and sexy to me.
  • I, on the other hand, do not feel as if I could be beautiful or sexy to anyone.
  • On Friday, January 3, 2014, my husband and I met several friends at the All Night Eggplant, now just the Eggplant. We had finished our meal and were getting ready to leave when a woman came up from elsewhere in the restaurant and told me that I was beautiful.
  • I was flabbergasted.

    She took my hands, told me she was an artist, and that I had a beautiful face, beautiful hair, beautiful voice and expressions.
  • I'd been out hiking through the snow and was sweaty and disheveled and my hair was disarranged from the hat and scarf--it was below zero outdoors.

    But she looked me in the eye and said I was beautiful. I held her hands, like a life rope.
  • And then, suddenly, I felt beautiful, with all my flaws and faults and fat and old age and everything--just the way I was, warts and all.
  • Image credits:

    1. by Harry Teichert with my new camera

    2. by Keith, with tripod

    3. by Janine, at Green Lakes, below-zero temps, lovely day

    (I haven't miraculously become better looking, I'm just a little more aware of that fleeting inner beauty that shines through when I am happy.)

    This story is a sprout and is dedicated to the very beautiful Kiki Suarez. (Also to my beautiful husband, Keith.)
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