abigya
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If Only I Were Beautiful
By Amy Nicole Wallace
I looked in the mirror and smiled.
He'd asked me out. An older guy from my church's singles group wanted to go out with me, a sixteen-year-old junior. He said I was beautiful.
I believed him.
So much so, that after we'd been dating a little while, his opinion dominated everything. Soon I dropped all my church activities because he didn't like them. He was my boyfriend and just wanted to spend time with me. It didn't matter that my mom and dad didn't like him. Or that my friends from church said things weren't right with our relationship.
I didn't care. I'd grown up an ugly duckling and finally felt like a swan. Someone wanted me. Someone who said I was the most beautiful girl in the world.
That same someone ripped away my virginity one night after hearing "no" too many times for his liking.
I didn't feel beautiful anymore. I felt like trash.
But I continued to go out with him. He never tried to force a physical relationship again. Instead, his anger escalated. He punched a wall out, barely missing my head. He damaged the nerves in my arm yanking me out of a car, accusing me of flirting with another guy.
Then he got in my face and yelled, "Don't even think about leaving me. No one else would want you anyway. You're used goods and I'm the best you'll ever get."
I believed him.
Until I moved away to attend a small Christian college in another city. There I met lots of guys who treated me with respect. But none of them ever asked me out.
Maybe my boyfriend was right. I was used goods, no longer beautiful.
I transferred in the middle of my freshman year to a state university in my hometown. My new friends encouraged me to get out and date other guys and not let my boyfriend push me around. So I did. I broke off our two-year relationship and jumped right into another one.
I moved in with my new boyfriend and spent the next few years trying to stay pretty enough to keep his attention. I played intramural basketball, weight trained, and played racquetball in my free time. On top of that, I held down a part-time job and managed to stay on the honor roll.
Anything to make me feel worthwhile, to feel beautiful.
It wasn't until seventeen years later as I sat in my family room surrounded by teens half my age, listening to them talk each week about boys and wishing they were beautiful, that I started to grasp the truth.
No one could make me feel beautiful.
One of the girls talked about her dad. "My dad says, 'You used to be so cute. What happened?'" Tears streamed down her beautiful chocolate skin. She didn't think she'd ever be beautiful.
I knew differently. She was already beautiful. She just didn't believe it.
Another night I posed a question. "What are you trying to get when you dress to impress a guy?"
Their eyes grew wide. I waited.
One of the older girls spoke up, "I like to dress nice. The boys notice and it feels good inside."
"But what happens when he decides someone else looks better?"
"It hurts."
"Yes it does." I read the girls two quotes that God was using to change the focus of my search for attention:
"No love of the natural heart is safe unless the human heart has been satisfied by God first" — Oswald Chambers
"We are not wrong to think we desperately need to be loved. We do. Our need does not constitute anyone else's call but God's." — Beth Moore
I spent my teen years trying to get someone to love me. Any way I could. I wanted their attention and their words to make me feel beautiful. I took the questions of my heart to any guy who noticed. Do you see me? Am I beautiful?
Sooner or later everyone that answered "yes" fell under the weight of trying to make me feel okay.
What I've finally received in the deepest part of my heart—what I'm learning to walk through with my youth group girls—is that our cavernous need to be loved, to be beautiful, will be satisfied first in God.
Or it won't be satisfied at all.
So we're taking a U-turn together and encouraging one another to take our questions to God, not boys, or any one else for that matter. It's pretty amazing to see the light in their eyes as they hear God answer their questions with a, "YES! I see you. You are beautiful. You are Mine and you are loved."
I'm starting to see that light in my own eyes too. I've stopped saying, "If only I could lose a few pounds. If only I were beautiful." Now I remind myself that I am beautiful in God's eyes. His eyes see me first thing in the morning and on bad hair days.
And He still says I'm beautiful.
Take a good look in your mirror. God has much to say. Listen closely. He is enthralled with your beauty.
By Amy Nicole Wallace
I looked in the mirror and smiled.
He'd asked me out. An older guy from my church's singles group wanted to go out with me, a sixteen-year-old junior. He said I was beautiful.
I believed him.
So much so, that after we'd been dating a little while, his opinion dominated everything. Soon I dropped all my church activities because he didn't like them. He was my boyfriend and just wanted to spend time with me. It didn't matter that my mom and dad didn't like him. Or that my friends from church said things weren't right with our relationship.
I didn't care. I'd grown up an ugly duckling and finally felt like a swan. Someone wanted me. Someone who said I was the most beautiful girl in the world.
That same someone ripped away my virginity one night after hearing "no" too many times for his liking.
I didn't feel beautiful anymore. I felt like trash.
But I continued to go out with him. He never tried to force a physical relationship again. Instead, his anger escalated. He punched a wall out, barely missing my head. He damaged the nerves in my arm yanking me out of a car, accusing me of flirting with another guy.
Then he got in my face and yelled, "Don't even think about leaving me. No one else would want you anyway. You're used goods and I'm the best you'll ever get."
I believed him.
Until I moved away to attend a small Christian college in another city. There I met lots of guys who treated me with respect. But none of them ever asked me out.
Maybe my boyfriend was right. I was used goods, no longer beautiful.
I transferred in the middle of my freshman year to a state university in my hometown. My new friends encouraged me to get out and date other guys and not let my boyfriend push me around. So I did. I broke off our two-year relationship and jumped right into another one.
I moved in with my new boyfriend and spent the next few years trying to stay pretty enough to keep his attention. I played intramural basketball, weight trained, and played racquetball in my free time. On top of that, I held down a part-time job and managed to stay on the honor roll.
Anything to make me feel worthwhile, to feel beautiful.
It wasn't until seventeen years later as I sat in my family room surrounded by teens half my age, listening to them talk each week about boys and wishing they were beautiful, that I started to grasp the truth.
No one could make me feel beautiful.
One of the girls talked about her dad. "My dad says, 'You used to be so cute. What happened?'" Tears streamed down her beautiful chocolate skin. She didn't think she'd ever be beautiful.
I knew differently. She was already beautiful. She just didn't believe it.
Another night I posed a question. "What are you trying to get when you dress to impress a guy?"
Their eyes grew wide. I waited.
One of the older girls spoke up, "I like to dress nice. The boys notice and it feels good inside."
"But what happens when he decides someone else looks better?"
"It hurts."
"Yes it does." I read the girls two quotes that God was using to change the focus of my search for attention:
"No love of the natural heart is safe unless the human heart has been satisfied by God first" — Oswald Chambers
"We are not wrong to think we desperately need to be loved. We do. Our need does not constitute anyone else's call but God's." — Beth Moore
I spent my teen years trying to get someone to love me. Any way I could. I wanted their attention and their words to make me feel beautiful. I took the questions of my heart to any guy who noticed. Do you see me? Am I beautiful?
Sooner or later everyone that answered "yes" fell under the weight of trying to make me feel okay.
What I've finally received in the deepest part of my heart—what I'm learning to walk through with my youth group girls—is that our cavernous need to be loved, to be beautiful, will be satisfied first in God.
Or it won't be satisfied at all.
So we're taking a U-turn together and encouraging one another to take our questions to God, not boys, or any one else for that matter. It's pretty amazing to see the light in their eyes as they hear God answer their questions with a, "YES! I see you. You are beautiful. You are Mine and you are loved."
I'm starting to see that light in my own eyes too. I've stopped saying, "If only I could lose a few pounds. If only I were beautiful." Now I remind myself that I am beautiful in God's eyes. His eyes see me first thing in the morning and on bad hair days.
And He still says I'm beautiful.
Take a good look in your mirror. God has much to say. Listen closely. He is enthralled with your beauty.
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