I Am Not Beautiful

I desperately want to be valued.
To be coddled, pampered, complimented, treated like a queen.

But is that really what being valued means?

I tend to over-think everything.  And so when the conversation went like this, "You're beautiful!"
"No I'm not, I'm Maddie," my head went haywire.

Who am I, really?
That joking comment--"No I'm not, I'm Maddie"--started a deep soul searching in a quest to find what I truly should want to be identified as.  I want people to tell me I'm beautiful, to let me know that they notice me and they can see something about me that's good.

But then I realized I don't want that.  I don't want to be known for only my face or my body.  I'm not beautiful.  I'm Maddie.  I'm not tall.  I'm not skinny or fat.  I'm not some winged eyeliner or flawless foundation.

I'm Maddie.

I am hundred swirling thoughts and spectrum of actions and emotions.  I am the girl who is still struggling to find her place and her calling, who is trying to deal (unsuccessfully) with loneliness and worry.  I am a scattering of klutzy actions and foolish words escaping from my lips.  But I am also the fiercely protective older sister, the responsible daughter, the dancer twirling her heart out.  My life is a thousand contradictions and oxymorons, and I realized, that's what makes me truly me.

I don't mind being called beautiful.  But I will choose what defines me, and what defines me has nothing to do with the way I look.

I am not beautiful.  I'm Maddie.  And really, that's the most beautiful thing I can be.