Women

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Beautiful I ain't.

Let me count the ways:

Height: Non-Tall
Weight: Over, by more than a few pounds (exactly how do you express a googol in numbers, anyway?)
Skin: Peaches and cream scream at the thought of being mentioned in the same breath as my epidermis
Hair: Dishwater somethin'
Teeth: Good for chewing
Facial Structure: Yep, I've got cheekbones in there, somewhere...
Eyes: Optimistically "hazel"
Etc., Etc., Etc.

The list of ways that I am not beautiful in appearance could go on and on (and on). Oh, well. The pageant circuit will just have to limp on without me somehow.

I must, in contrast, be beautiful on the inside, then, right?

No, I'm pretty crappy by most measures of the interior, too.

I've hurt people's feelings, failed again and again, and been a disappointment. I didn't live up to my potential (what an awful, dirty word that can be!), and I've messed up my life in too many ways to catalog. (Nobody would want to buy anything from page 37 in that baby!)

So?

And?

The good news is (trumpet fanfare, please): I'm not made up of just me, and me alone. I gave my life over to Jesus many years ago, and I'd like to think that it's hard to tell where He stops and where I begin, in my best moments.

Beautiful I ain't.

Beautiful He is.

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