Am I Beautiful?

I asked the question a thousand times a day when I was young. “Am I beautiful?” Almost invariably, I came up with the answer, “No,” or at least, “Not quite yet.” I can easily roll my eyes at the mental list of inadequacies that ran through my mind like a never-ending film reel with no “off” switch anywhere in sight.
Of course, there’s still the comparison factor. “My stomach isn’t as flat as hers.” “How does she keep her face that wrinkle free? She’s ten years older than me! I have to find out what cream she’s using!” “Ugh. If only I could get my hair to cooperate like hers.” Enough already. I’m seriously tired of the obsession with beauty.
Before I continue, let me say that my husband tells me almost daily that I’m beautiful. He often tells me that I just keep getting better. I deeply adore him for it. I love that he looks at me and melts. I melt, too. I also know my husband well enough to understand that when my face sags and my back is bent, he’ll still see me as his lovely bride. If I were to suffer an accident that distorts my face or disease that robs me of body parts, he’ll embrace me with the same depth of love. This all leads me to the real question.
It comes to mind every time I see a magazine cover or Facebook post about beauty; “Do I have to be beautiful?” There are times when I feel attractive. Sometimes I feel confident and capable of taking on a new challenge. Other times, I feel sluggish and every wrinkle seems to taunt me. So what really matters? I’m really curious who wrote the rule that all of us have to be beautiful. We can redefine beauty; or we can just walk away from the hype and live life.