I see you siting there. Wondering about your weight. How much you’ve gained. How much you’ve lost. How much you’re trying to keep off.
I see you worrying about your hair. If it’s too short? Too long? Is it the right color? Is it too curly?
I see you agonizing about your skin. Is it too light? Is it too dark? Do you have too many freckles?
Too many blemishes? Should you tan?
You know why I want you to stop?
Because, somewhere, out there, there is a man who likes what he sees.
Somewhere, there is a man who adores what he sees.
Somewhere, there is a man who’s going crazy over you.
Your weight? There’s a guy out there at your morning coffee spot that’s checked out every one of your curves, and loves them. He can’t wait to see how you’re going to look in your outfit the next day. There are a few men at your job who quietly get excited when you walk past them, and unintentionally sway those wonderful hips of yours, every day.
Your hair? There’s a man at the DMV who thinks your short hair kills. There’s a dude at the neighborhood convenience store who loves the way your curls bounce when you talk to him, about anything. You walked past a bloke in the post office last week who marveled at the way your hairstyle complimented your face.
Your skin? There’s a gentleman at your church that thinks your dark skin is a divine gift. There’s a male at the grocery store who thinks your porcelain hue is electric, and that you would be insane to even consider tanning.
Ma’am, you are beautiful. Know that. Please know that. You may not often hear it, but, someone is thinking it. Your flaws are wonderful, and your quirks are enchanting.
Someone is noticing you.
But, don’t be afraid.
Because you make their day.
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