Tuesday, April 7, 2015

The You You Never Knew

First of all, my dear subscribers and followers, I'm so sorry for the recent Polyvore posting fiasco! I made the mistake of linking my blog to Polyvore, not knowing it would automatically post EVERY little thing. Who would want that? Without my tech support (Brian, who's been gone for a week) I searched for an "off switch" and couldn't find it. Then I tried to outsmart it by switching it to another blog (which I created just for that purpose), but it continues to post to both. Have mercy. So I did try to stop sending all these posts that aren't real posts, but the best I can do for now is delete them as soon as they come through. He comes home tonight, people, so we're almost there.

Yesterday I had one of my regulars come into the store and while we were catching up she said, "I just like the sound of your voice." I looked at her dumbfounded. 

"Really?! I've always thought it was kind of nasal and too high," which I've thought since the first time I heard myself recorded and why I take so long to record a greeting on my voicemail.

"Not just the sound of it, but there's a kindness and caring in it. I love listening to it." 

Wow. I've literally called my voice "hard to listen to," so this stopped me in my tracks. I felt like God walked in to remind me how off my self-assessment can be. "Silly girl, the pitch of your voice is irrelevant compared with the heart it speaks from." Our self-assessment is often inaccurate because it's one-dimensional. We reduce ourselves to what we consider facts: numbers on a scale, what a critical middle-schooler said, identities we disappointedly accepted (like my "I'm not an athlete"). We disregard the invisible parts of what happens between people, like the love we offer and the joy we share. But without the invisibles, who cares what we look like? I mean, Barbie looks good, but she's dead. It's no wonder we find ourselves lacking when we dehumanize ourselves. Strip away all our life and love and we are just lumpy, saggy, pimpled Barbies. 

That's why feminists (like me) get fired up about objectification. People can't be spliced. When we do that, we ruin our chances of connecting with them. A friend of mine pointed out how this happens when we categorize someone, putting them in a box and labeling them. "They're a Republican or Hippie or Muslim or Christian" or any other label that causes you to stop listening and learning them, because you think you already know. 

When it comes to yourself, don't accept any hard-lined, boiled down, judgmental facts either. The conclusion they lead you to is a mean half-truth. You are more. Much, much more. Someone can love listening to my high, nasal voice. What I deemed something people would have to tolerate or overlook, blessed her. Don't erase your inner beauty from your self image. We tell our kids that's what counts, but we don't count it. Yesterday, I had proof it counts. I'm so grateful she said it, that she didn't worry it would sound weird. What a brave soul. 

Which reminds me of some brave souls who're also celebrities. How would you like to be famous enough that people (who don't know and love you) would take pictures of you in your swimsuit and publish them so the whole world could critique you? Well, these gorgeous ladies know that and still get out there and live. So in the hubbub of "getting your body bikini ready" I'd like to offer these happy ladies.

If you could use a few more of these photos, I have a whole board. It's my medicine when I struggle to see my whole beauty. Love to you and your amazing bodies. 

P.S. This article helped shift me toward a truer body-view (like world-view, but with my body). It's brilliant.


  1. We continue to be our own worst critic don't we :) I appreciate the reminder to be happy in our bodies!

  2. Beautifully written, Kendra, and just what I needed to hear this morning. Thank you for reminding me to not judge myself too harshly.