Reflections in a mirror, or is it my mind?

I wouldn’t call my mirror my enemy. Well, maybe a bit, but it strikes me as more of a stranger, really. Those times I do catch my reflection, I quickly turn away and ask, “Who is that woman?”

You see, in my imagination, nothing about me has changed in a few decades. In fact, I've improved. My skin is wrinkle free, all one tone, clinging to my bones (such as they are) and dusted with freckles; my neck is smooth; I only have one chin and my green-hazel eyes are clear, fringed with dark lashes (not swimming in a sea of lines , underpinned by bags.) What’s more, I still have nice plump lips that show small white teeth (not crooked "beige" ones) when I smile. I sweep through the world happy in my delusions.

But now, today, January 3, on my birthday yet (the big one: six oh,) someone has played a mean trick on me. I walked into the bathroom and made a major mistake. Still wearing my glasses – trifocals, by the way – I allowed myself to glimpse into that glassy surface I usually avoid at all costs. I almost screamed.

An old woman has moved into my mirror.

I took my glasses off and looked again. A bit better -- soft focus helps. Makes it more bearable.

Yep, that's me, fresh from the shower, just dressed, not even sun screen on my face, haven't combed my hair yet. OMG -- what a shock!

So, I did something I haven't done in years. I stood before the mirror and had a good look. Didn't like what I saw much. But then, I never have.

And that got me to thinking, which in turn got me to writing.

Okay, truth is I never was a beauty. No one ever suggested that. Acceptable, yes, if I worked at it – which I rarely did. (Too time consuming.) Most days I’ve settled for clean and tidy and that’s as far as I travelled down that road.

Me at twelve, standing behind my older and my younger sisters.
Me at twelve, standing behind my older and my younger sisters.

When I was twelve, my mother told me, “You’re not an attractive girl, Lynda, so you might as well accept that.” A mean-spirited thing to say to an adolescent girl, I think, but that was mild for Mom. (We had a “troubled” relationship.)

I believed her. True, I had a pronounced over-bite which was never corrected in my growing years. ( I survived the taunts – “Hey, Bucky Beaver.”) I also had a gawky neck, a sallow complexion, a receding chin and no cheek bones to speak of. But my hair was raven dark with red highlights and very thick. (I liked my hair.)

My older sister spent years calling me "Ugly Bug."

I decided looks didn’t matter, or tried to. Besides, not much I could do about it.

Then at fourteen, something happened. I grew a new body. One day I woke up to find myself built like a Barbie doll – no exaggeration. At five foot eight, long-legged, curvy and buxom, I started receiving those “looks” from the opposite sex (and those other “looks” from my sisters-in-gender.) No one noticed my over-bite anymore. Their eyes went elsewhere -- the packaged chicken syndrome: breasts, legs, thighs. (It might have gone to my head, had I not been so all-fired shy and weirded out by it.)

I started feeling better about myself. Until, one day when travelling in a gang of girls at a campground, we met another gang, this one boys ranging in age from thirteen to eighteen. Their leader (a real little a-hole) took one look at me and dismissed me with the words, “You have buck teeth.”

That was it. I was crushed. I gave up smiling altogether, which didn’t help my struggling social life much over the next few years. So I did what kids do in such a situation; I became a rebel, an anti-everything, unpleasant, surly, moody rebel. A loner.

Until a young man saw beyond my defects. Then I became pregnant. And briefly married.

I made it through my twenties posing as one so lofty, above all thought of cosmetics, lotions and beauty, I preferred to be “natural” -- and insufferable, lecturing those dedicated to their appearance on the importance of the inner-life, intelligence and accomplishments. (Sour grapes? You bet.) Not one photograph of me from this decade survives. I avoided cameras like the plague.

In my early twenties, I visited an orthodontist who told me my jaw was too small for my teeth, and in order to correct the over-bite, I'd need to have four teeth removed and spend several years wearing braces. Being resigned to the problem, above such frivolity and as a single mother, too poor to pay for it, I declined.

I never bought fashion magazines or flipped through the pages of Cosmo. Why torture myself? Plain is as plain does.

Me, in my thirties, with my two daughters.
Me, in my thirties, with my two daughters.

In my thirties, I’d perfected my routine. My face got washed, slapped with a bit of moisturizer and I walked out the door. Here I am world. Plain or not, make room. Lynda’s on her way.

I could have done more. Certainly my make-up-obsessed daughters thought so. We were to have a family portrait done – their idea. Not mine. Definitely, not mine. My older daughter did my make-up, cause I didn’t know how, and fixed my hair. I didn’t like having to look in the mirror for that long.

When this portrait was delivered, all I saw was my two beautiful daughters and plain old me,

By this time, my plainness was such an accepted fact, it was beyond question. Never mind my many successes: I ran my own business; had educated myself; had traveled the world; had written a body of work; owned my home and farm; had friends... I still couldn't smile when I met someone new, never felt confident and didn't date much, having learned to reject before being rejected.

Eventually, while on a business trip in the U.S., I met a man who said I was beautiful and meant it. Of course, he was myopic and wore strong glasses -- which explained his lack of perception.

Me, at forty on the day of my younger daughter's wedding, with my husband, Jim, who still calls me his "lovely wife" even now.
Me, at forty on the day of my younger daughter's wedding, with my husband, Jim, who still calls me his "lovely wife" even now.

At forty, I thought I’d improved with age. The various pieces of my face came together, transforming me into a “handsome woman” which is a term applied to females of maturity, not quite beauties, but holding up okay. I could look in the mirror without that sinking sensation. I could sit for a photograph without cringing inside. Some of the bitterness I’d carried all those years disappeared, though it wasn’t until it was gone I realized the weight of it.

I learned how to smile again. And did, which improved my social life immeasurably.

But what was the change that brought about all these improvements? Cosmetic surgery? A peel? Nope. I stopped caring quite so much. Hell, I was forty and over the hill. What did it matter? After all, I had a loving husband, two grown daughters and the first of my to-be-four grandchildren. So I didn’t have looks. So what!

It didn't matter.

Yet, as the internet came into our lives, I never posted my true image on any site where I was active. Not once. I hid behind avatars and enjoyed the anonymity. In retrospect, as an intelligent woman (and I am that; no false modesty required) you’d think I’d at some point have given that fact some consideration. I guess I hadn’t taken my mother’s cruel advice, “you might as well accept that” to heart as much as I pretended.

At fifty, I considered myself lucky and better off than most, still hanging together without help, no “work” having been done, no perky new breasts (not needed,) no tummy tuck (needed,) and still no orthodontic work. I was strong and reasonably healthy, even if carrying an extra twenty pounds or so. By this time I had perfected my “I am what I am” attitude.

One day, sitting with my gorgeous older daughter just before her wedding I said something along the line of “You’re so beautiful! How did someone as plain as me produce a daughter like you.” I had never before admitted to anyone how I felt about myself. It was a first.

Me at fifty, my older daughter's wedding.
Me at fifty, my older daughter's wedding.

The surprise and shock on both my daughter’s and my husband’s faces took me aback. “Well, I am,” I said, perplexed. I mean, come on, the truth is the truth. Especially the plain truth.

They looked at each other. Then back at me in astonishment.

“You’re lovely,” my husband said.

“You are, Mom. You always have been,” said my daughter.

Love is blind. And kind.

Me, last year with my novel and my friend Sharon.
Me, last year with my novel and my friend Sharon.

I wish I could say it was a magic healing moment, but that would be fiction, not real life. I look back on these pictures here and what do I see now? A cute twelve-year-old girl who had a mentally disturbed mother, but didn’t recognize that fact until much, much later in life; a pretty mother of two beautiful girls who is so blinded by a believed and accepted lie she can’t see how much of herself lives in their faces; a lovely mature woman posing with her fine husband on one daughter’s wedding day, and a handsome matron escorting the other daughter to her wedding.

How is it that I can see that now, only now?

I, who used to work with troubled children for so many years, who helped them deal with the pain of being unloved, unwanted, neglected, abused, I didn’t recognize the effects of my own abuse. I’ve wasted so much time in self-hatred and it makes me angry.

Last year I published a novel and used a licensed avatar for the back cover instead of an image of myself. How pathetic is that?

My Nanny McPhee imitation
My Nanny McPhee imitation

The other day, I changed the avatar on Facebook to a picture of myself. Progress.

The day I took these pictures, another birthday -- another year passed. Age is wreaking its work on face and body. I do what I’ve done all my life. I avoid the face in the mirror. But not any more.

What do I see in the mirror?

A woman proudly entering her sixth decade, not so bad looking. She has nice eyes and thick, silvery salt and pepper hair. (I like my hair.)

See? .
See? .

Come on, Lynda. Make a smile, a big smile. Show those damn teeth! Show 'em to the world.

Dedicated to my girls -- all of them:

Put the pain away before it dulls your entire life.

Be careful what you say to your daughters; you have no idea how much power you hold over them.

-- Lynda M Martin, January 6, 2012


Post Script: I've just spent the last fifteen minutes unable to push the publish button. Yet, I think I have to, that this has something to say to many who need to hear it.I hope so. I've almost decided to do it... Almost.


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Comments 38 comments

lmmartin profile image

lmmartin 4 years ago from Alberta and Florida Author

Ha! What a laugh! Note the ads that showed up here: cosmetic surgery, laser treatments.... Oh dear -- the computer misses the point.


FloraBreenRobison profile image

FloraBreenRobison 4 years ago

My parents are in their sixties and Dad is turning 69 this year. I still think of them as middle aged and it worries me to think how much longer they have where they can live independently, healthily. Thanks for sharing your history.

As for the ads, yes that often happens. I find this is particularly true for satire writers. The ads that show up on Mark Ewbie's ads are often unintentionally halarious. The Google bot reads keywords, not the tone of the article.


lmmartin profile image

lmmartin 4 years ago from Alberta and Florida Author

Hi Flora. I'm at a loss as to what to say. This isn't about any insecurity about going into my sixth decade, or whether or not I can live independently. (Most of us manage to live independently long past sixty -- to eighty and sometimes beyond.) Far from that, I'm writing on another subject altogether. Perhaps it's my fault and this isn't as well written as I'd hoped. I am speaking of mental and emotional child abuse and its effects on the child's life -- entire life. So one of us has missed the boat completely, I think. As to the ads, I do understand how it works, thank you all the same. I just found it funny that an article about the pain of growing up/ nay living in our appearance obsessed world as a plain person should attract such ads. Thanks anyway. Lynda


FloraBreenRobison profile image

FloraBreenRobison 4 years ago

No, I didn't think it was. I was writing about my parents and my reaction to them getting older.


lmmartin profile image

lmmartin 4 years ago from Alberta and Florida Author

Okay. Any thoughts on the mental abuse of children?


FloraBreenRobison profile image

FloraBreenRobison 4 years ago

Dad's sister was sometimes told by her parents before they died that had their been any birth control pills at the time, she wouldn't exist. Really. And the family is Catholic, so...

Mom grew up in a household without a father in a time when they were the only divorced family in town. She and her siblings were constantly reminded that her father was nowhere in sight. My grandfather actually disowned his children from his first marriage. He wasn't interested in having a down syndrome baby as a child. He would send packages my aunt sent to him back unopened. Johann was the oldest and remembered him very well. The damage he did to his children is immeasurable. However, I think had he stayed the damage would have been worse.

Grandma was a wonderful mother. But my grandfather left a lot of scars. They have not healed now that he died earlier this year.

as for me, I had mental abuse from my brother. He is intimidating and I finally had to cut him out of my life.


lmmartin profile image

lmmartin 4 years ago from Alberta and Florida Author

Yes, the damage done to us as children can haunt us the rest of our lives. It seems that you have a good handle on things at a fairly young age. Today, I am amazed at how I was blind to my own problems and for so long -- me, after my years of working to heal the damage inflicted on other children. Like you, I have little contact with my siblings, aside from an email now and then. In the past, when we got together, particularly with my older sister, it seemed the old roles just flew into place. Funny how that is. Some things just can't be fixed and you are wise to avoid contact. Thanks for sharing on this subject. Lynda


hush4444 profile image

hush4444 4 years ago from Hawaii

You and I must have the same brand of mirror - it reflects some old woman who in no way looks like me. Thank you so much for getting this message out, we are all so much more alike than we are different.


resspenser profile image

resspenser 4 years ago from South Carolina

My Mom had the habit of saying whatever came into her head. Not always (or often) a good thing! Enjoyed the hub and 60 is NOT old, my granddaughter told me so!


lmmartin profile image

lmmartin 4 years ago from Alberta and Florida Author

Hi hush4444 -- They made a lot of that particular model of mirror, I think. I suspected I wasn't the only one living under a pile of such rubbish, was sure of it. Thanks for the reassurance.

Hi resspenser -- There's blurting out whatever comes into your mind and then there's being deliberately cruel. My mother was the latter. If there is an after-life and I'm to meet her again, I think the first words will be "How could you?" And this wasn't about getting older -- 60 may not be old, but it's not exactly young either -- but about coming to grips with the baggage we carry. Thanks, as always my good friend. Lynda


Sister Mary profile image

Sister Mary 4 years ago from Isle of Man

Thank you Immartin for this wonderful hub. I am 51 and grew up being teased by my family about my teeth. I got into the habit of jutting out my chin to hid the fact they protruded in pictures. My children laugh at me and tell me I am beautiful as does my husband ... frequently. Just only the other day something clicked I looked in the mirror and smiled and said to my teeth 'I like my teeth'.

That was a moment of acceptance! Looking forward to the next decades ad growing more in love with myself!!!


lmmartin profile image

lmmartin 4 years ago from Alberta and Florida Author

Happy you had that "click" moment. Too bad it can sometimes take a lifetime... THanks, Sister Mary, for sharing your experience. Lynda


Spirit Whisperer profile image

Spirit Whisperer 4 years ago from Isle of Man

Of all your hubs this one is special. Thank you for having the courage to selflessly share your experience and your words will undoubtedly help many people who read them. You are a very special lady and I am very grateful to Mr Happy for directing me to your hubs. This is voted up and shared across my network. Thank you.


lmmartin profile image

lmmartin 4 years ago from Alberta and Florida Author

Thanks Spirit Whisperer. As far as I can see, you are the only one who recognizes what to took for me to write this, let alone publish it. In our appearance-obsessed world, being plain (and being told you're plain by your own mother on your twelfth birthday) can be painful. I'd like to say I was intelligent enough to put in proper perspective, but I wasn't. What a waste of time! Thank you for your kind words. Lynda


PegCole17 profile image

PegCole17 4 years ago from Dallas, Texas

First of all, your Jim is right. You are lovely, inside and outside. I recognize the courage it must have taken to post this intimate look at your reflections, physical and mental. I love the double meaning of the word you chose and the glimpse into the Lynda inside.

Isn't it interesting that we latch onto the most negative things spoken about us as kids and discount the many wonderful adjectives people send our way? I'm the same way. Even Oprah admits that of her fan mail, the ones she thinks about the most are the critical ones, replaying them in her mind.

When we can finally get to the point where we can accept ourselves as we are, and even love ourselves the way we are, it is a milestone. You taught that concept to so many kids who struggled with negative self images.

There are some folks who just shouldn't have children, whose purpose seems to be inflicting mental damage on their kids. My Grandmother was that kind of person, inflicting years of mental and physical abuse on her biological son, while holding the other one (adopted) up on a pedestal.

Happy Belated Birthday to you my younger friend. I hit the mark in August last year. It hurt.

PS I absolutely love all the images of you and your daughters, particularly when you were in your 30s, the one at the wedding and the image when you smiled at the end. Love, Peg


lmmartin profile image

lmmartin 4 years ago from Alberta and Florida Author

Thanks so much, Peg. I truly don't mind getting older, though I mourn the younger me that wasted so much time living within the boundaries set by someone else. Though the old joke is true: I just get my head together and the body falls apart. I suppose we all have that bit of self-hatred living inside us; we all focus on our perceived defects to the exclusion of all else -- like the anorexic who looks in the mirror and sees obesity, even though her bones are sticking through her skin. I vow to try and do better. Thanks again, Lynda


itakins profile image

itakins 4 years ago from Irl

Great, brilliant ,fantastic and thoroughly engaging.

It's a funny thing with adults -we can make or break a child's life with our choice of words.It's such a pity we can't just acknowledge the goodness in people-especially the young and impressionable.

One successful man I know claims he got to where he is because a wise teacher simply said 'You are good'while handing back some homework-and he believed him.

I am amused by your comments re avatar-I have in the past week ,for the first time ever, put up my own face on facebook....it's not beautiful ...but it's me freckles ,chins and all that goes with them.As we say here 'feck the begrudgers'(not to be confused with the bad word by the way.

I loved this hub-good on you,and I think you are gorgeous .


Rolly A Chabot profile image

Rolly A Chabot 4 years ago from Alberta Canada

Hi Lynda... Prairie girls alway look great and you are no exception to the rule... hugs to you and stay young at heart. It is the key...

Blessings and Hugs


lmmartin profile image

lmmartin 4 years ago from Alberta and Florida Author

Funny thing, Itakins. I've seen your face on other sites and always thought you beautiful. Strange how the mind works -- which I guess is the point to this hub. "fek them all;" you're right. Lynda

Hi Rolly. This was not meant to be a plea for compliments, but more a look at what happens to ideas planted in the minds of the children. But the compliment is accepted all the same. Thanks. Lynda


Mr. Happy profile image

Mr. Happy 4 years ago from Toronto, Canada

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder - I do believe in that. Besides, I honestly care less about what my eyes see when I look at people - I look at Spirit and not that it matters much but I like You the way you are just fine Mrs. Lynda.

Cheers!

P.S. Not sure why people get so caught-up in the "looks" thing ...


lmmartin profile image

lmmartin 4 years ago from Alberta and Florida Author

Really? Well I guess we're not all so very high-minded as you. Particularly when we're young. Our loss to be sure.

You seem to have misunderstood -- this isn't about my looks or lack of them, it's about the damage done to children with a careless (or carefully chosen) word. How perceptions taken in in childhood can last a lifetime, in spite of logic, rationale or evidence to the contrary. It is about the life-long pain of being unloved as a child. It is about self-fulfilling prophecy and why we should watch our words; about the power we hold over our children.

It is not begging to be told I am fine or that I should be "above" such things. It's not about beauty at all.


Mr. Happy profile image

Mr. Happy 4 years ago from Toronto, Canada

Yes, You are right Mrs. Lynda. Again, I must have fumbled with my words ...

The damage done to children by "a careless word" is what I was after. Why would people say such things (when beauty is different for each of us, in the way we understand it or appreciate it ...). The people who make such comments create the problem. I am of the opinion that the problem is with those who make the comment and not the fact that children would be affected by them. Of course they would (again in my opinion) - they are children.

I am not doing so good at saying what I want to say, I guess.

All the best!


lmmartin profile image

lmmartin 4 years ago from Alberta and Florida Author

Not so. I understood what you meant, but that is an ideal of maturity and spiritual growth. Not applicable to children. It is devastating to a young girl to be told she is unattractive, whether it's true or not. Particularly when it is the mother, the "maker" who finds us unlovely. It is also a fact that we carry the wounds of childhood throughout our lives in one form or another.

But you did sound a little high-minded, as though what is should not be. We all know we should be above such frivolity, but we are not. We are human. Thanks for clearing the air. Lynda


Mr. Happy profile image

Mr. Happy 4 years ago from Toronto, Canada

Once again, I have to admit you are right Mrs. Lynda. Many people either find me stuck-up or high-minded and such. Everyone is entitled to their own opinion.

All I can say is that I am honest and striving to be better or more conscious or aware, is a reality for me. That is how I am and not how I think I should be (that is why I react the way I do in this three dimensional perspective).

Thank You for understanding.


lmmartin profile image

lmmartin 4 years ago from Alberta and Florida Author

da nada.


TIMETRAVELER2 profile image

TIMETRAVELER2 4 years ago

This was so poignant! Just remember that age is the great equalizer. All of those people who made you miserable, as they age, are not nearly so outwardly beautiful as they once were...and inwardly, were actually quite ugly, while YOU were beautiful all the while. I am sorry that you suffered, but happy that you have found the wisdom to see who you really are. I'm sure you have greatly helped many others, so maybe your suffering has served to ease theirs. Lovely, lovely hub!


Gypsy48 profile image

Gypsy48 4 years ago

Fantastic hub! My mirror reflects a 63 year old woman who has seen better days but at least I still have my sense of humor. Loved this hub! Voted up and awesome.


lmmartin profile image

lmmartin 4 years ago from Alberta and Florida Author

Thanks Timetraveller. I am pleased to receive your comments, though I don't know if you can say I have suffered... More like just missed the bus having wasted too much time on such irrelevance. Then, I know others feel the same. Oh well, thanks anyway.

Hi Gypsy48. Thanks God for that sense of humor. Glad you related to my words. Lynda


kartika damon profile image

kartika damon 4 years ago from Fairfield, Iowa

OMG! I love this - I'll admit I skimmed it but am going to get back to it and give it my full attention. Brilliant. I'm going through a bit of a crisis myself at the moment especially when looking at photos taken by family and friends - PLEASE DO NOT TAKE MY PICTURE, I'm 62 and a half and I don't need evidence or reminders...I get the picture looking in the mirror and seeing my reflection in store windows, etc. You become braver and lovelier as time passes, llmartin!!!!!


lmmartin profile image

lmmartin 4 years ago from Alberta and Florida Author

Hi Karitka. It's not a question of worrying about how I've aged that prompted this article, but how I've considered my self-worth based on my looks my entire life. We live in a culture that equates a woman's value with her beauty. If it is hard enough for use "mature" specimens, how hard is it for our girls?


kartika damon profile image

kartika damon 4 years ago from Fairfield, Iowa

Hi Lynda, yes I did get that, and am sorry I wasn't making myself clear. I think women have really been undervalued and judged on looks and sex appeal in ways that are unfair and hurt us a group and individually. We are also judged against unrealistic standards of beauty and perfection. I was also just trying to add that as women age, we also have aging to deal with and how that plays into the mix. So, reminders of how we have changed often give rise to discomfort because society looks at aging as unattractive - thus the plastic surgery industry and all the creams and cosmetics to make us look young. I find that I'm dealing with that as are many friends.

In a society where women are judged mainly on how they look, age is a factor. Older women are definitely treated differently - we will never get the perks that young women are given. And this is something all women deal with (and, to an extend men too). That said, being a young girl or woman in a society obsessed with physical perfection is brutal. I must say, the women on television who ALL look like models play into this - I prefer the British shows who have actors that look like real people. It is far more interesting to see real people who represent us.


lmmartin profile image

lmmartin 4 years ago from Alberta and Florida Author

About the BBC, I agree with you. I'd much rather see drama as portrayed by ordinary folk who look like they could live next door rather than "beautiful" people with smiles so brilliant one wants to turn down the contrast on the set. Strange, but aging has liberated me from that "how do I look?" complex. Suddenly, I just don't care. It no longer feels important and for the first time, I can honestly say I'm happy with myself. I think I look great!

I had a friend who had a major face lift at the age of 72. I wanted to ask her why would you do that? Not only was it incredibly expensive, but painful, very painful. And she was beautiful before she had the surgery -- at least to those who knew her. And then, only to prove irony does exist as a force in this world, she smashed her car into a big oak tree and broke every bone in her face.

Not that such is germaine to the discussion (but a bit humorous in a catty way) but only goes to show how extreme the need to look good can be, if you let it.


kartika damon profile image

kartika damon 4 years ago from Fairfield, Iowa

I also get extremely annoyed by the women cops in American TV shows running down the streets after the perps in stilettos (and, the makeup never smudges). The plastic surgery business is crazy! Did you know these women are actually giving plastic surgery to their dogs? And, at 72?!!! Let's get over it and relax, girls--time goes on and takes it's natural course. I know what you mean about age being somewhat liberating. My niece recently took a picture of me with her two little ones on either side of me - I was really surprised to see myself - I showed it to a friend who laughed and said, Kartika embrace your crone! I love that... :)


lmmartin profile image

lmmartin 4 years ago from Alberta and Florida Author

Yes, TVLand is populated by pole dancers and Barbies, which as any trip to Walmart will show you is simply not reality. Shiny packaging does not make for a superior product, but then there are those who believe appearances are everything. It's up to us to debunk that sick misconception and to walk proudly natural, I think.


kartika damon profile image

kartika damon 4 years ago from Fairfield, Iowa

How about body image? - I'm in meltdown mode over the weight I've gained. Going to see family in a week - they are all thin...I really need to get a grip. I think we are all dealing with body image issues that come and go throughout life...it is brutal sometimes and other times we have a healthier attitude of greater self-acceptance. More later - anyway, I love this hub and think you are courageous and wonderful for writing so honestly and truthfully, as always.


lmmartin profile image

lmmartin 4 years ago from Alberta and Florida Author

Oh yes, sure, Kartika, the first thing your family will think is "she's gained weight." Not, "so good to see Karika, that wonderful, intelligent woman." We are complex, spiritual beings and those who count love us for who we are, not what we look like. And if someone is so shallow as to judge by our fatness, thinness, wrinkles or hair colour,(or clothing) then this is someone you don't need or want in your life.

Have you ever noticed how we are more concerned with what others think about us than what we think of others? Strange. I read a great observation about that: "what others think of us is none of our business."


kartika damon profile image

kartika damon 4 years ago from Fairfield, Iowa

Yes, and we often still have the conversation going on in our heads even if we KNOW better - crazy, isn't it? We have lots of opportunities to transcend the ego.


Alison-Jean profile image

Alison-Jean 4 years ago from Egypt

Poignant, funny, true-thank you for saying this. I came to it when investigating your profile after reading your hub about contraception-another goody. Please let me know when you publish.

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