Lacklustre

So let me tell you what I think beautiful is. What real, deep, inner beauty is. Beautiful is the woman who keeps her head up and is proud of her body, just as it is. Beautiful is the man who has to hide his gay lover from his judgmental parents, but who loves, regardless of what the world will think. Beautiful are the women who buy the jeans that fit them, not the ones they hope will fit one day; the people who wear what they want because they like it. Beautiful are the people who choose love. Beautiful are the people who allow their bodies to be their temples and canvases, and who create their outer beings to reflect their inner. Beautiful are the people who hurt and feel insecure and make mistakes—but rise above, and find confidence and admit when they’re wrong. Beautiful is you and me. Beautiful is everyday. Beautiful is the struggle and the triumph, and beautiful is the understanding how necessary the struggle was. Remember that the next time you feel hopeless. Beautiful is loving yourself enough to know you’re worth more than feeling inadequate.

I firmly believe in small gestures: pay for their coffee, hold the door for strangers, over tip, smile or try to be kind even when you don’t feel like it, pay compliments, chase the kid’s runaway ball down the sidewalk and throw it back to him, try to be larger than you are— particularly when it’s difficult. People do notice, people appreciate. I appreciate it when it’s done to (for) me. Small gestures can be an effort, or actually go against our grain (“I’m not a big one for paying compliments…”), but the irony is that almost every time you make them, you feel better about yourself. For a moment life suddenly feels lighter, a bit more Gene Kelly dancing in the rain.