In His Eyes.

As I lay in our bed last night enjoying the hands of my husband massaging my back I couldn't help but feel a little self conscious, or a lot. I had wanted this massage for my aching muscles yet my mind kept flashing images of my imperfect body; ones I had a hard time pushing aside. It was just a few hours previous those images were created as I stood before my mirror. Those love handles, thunder thighs, loose skin, saggy boobs, and mountains of cottage cheese and stretch marks were all still there as much as I had wished them away. I am self conscious simply looking at myself, so when he whispered in my ear my beauty and his love for me, water flooded my eyes and the hairs on my neck and my cochlea stood on end the way they do when you have goose-bumps. He is 24 years old. I know this man has seen a magazine or two, I know he has walked through Victoria Secret because I have dragged him through myself, and I know he has watched gorgeous woman on TV for I am guilty myself. These images are everywhere, yet he tells me I am beautiful. What is wrong with this guy? Surely he sees everything I see. 

He does. He sees everything I see and more. He is much taller than I so he can see my imperfection from above, which I can’t. He can see my imperfections side to side, top to bottom, bottom to top, this guy has a front row seat to a show I don't understand why any man or woman for that matter would want to go to. But... with his ability to see me from these angles he also sees much more. 

He sees eyes sore they are so full of exhaustion but a haze of love shields their break. He sees marks that remind him who gave him the greatest gift he could ever receive. Marks that trigger emotions he never knew he had while holding my hand through the pain of labor. He sees strips that remind him of the pain and sickness he wished he could carry for me. He sees the girl I was and the woman I have become. He sees the blisters left on my feet from the previous night before attempt to impress him. He sees the hips that he trusts above any to carry his one year old on. He sees the crease where the pony tail was and the shorter hairs where his daughter helped her mommy do her hair. He sees a chest that fed his newborn. The same chest that saved them so many screaming nights. He sees hands that protect his family when he is away at school, hands that fight off every bad guy or monster. He sees those same hands playing peek-a-boo for hours. He sees arms that hold his most precious gift, ones that comfort and ones that are so strong they never give up holding and hugs. He sees bruised knees spent from hovering over the bathtub where so many giggles and splashes were made. This man sees me rawer than I could ever see myself. Although I may think there is something wrong with him for what he sees as beauty, I believe him. I believe every word he tells me. I know without waver he thinks I am the most beautiful woman to walk this earth. 

Every night when I go to bed and he puts his arm around me and tells me of my beauty and his love I will let it sink in deep for all the reassurance I need is tucked under that comforter with me. Every. Single. Night I will listen to that same man and I will let him try to help me believe for myself.