Am I Ugly?

Lord, sometimes I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, in the ring cam, or in a store window as I walk past and I just… wonder. Not in a dramatic, "woe is me" kind of way, but in that quiet, nagging voice that pops up when you're folding laundry at midnight or stirring oatmeal on a Tuesday morning. Am I ugly? Have I entered that “beauty fades” period in my life where now I’m the last to be noticed, if at all.

Forty-four, three kids, and single. That's my bio, short and sweet. My youngest, bless her heart, still thinks I'm the prettiest woman on earth, right after Beyoncé, especially when I had long hair. My middle one, my only son, barely looks up from his phone long enough to ask "where are you going" if I'm looking a little more put together than usual. And my oldest? She just wants to know what perfume I sprayed on so she can go spray some too.  By God… she is even wearing my t-shirts as night shirts!!  Their love is a different kind of mirror, one that reflects pure, unconditional acceptance. But it doesn't always answer the question I'm asking myself.

I see these women on TV, on social media, even just walking down the street. Flawless skin, snatched waists, hair laid to the gods. And then there's me. My skin tells stories of sleepless nights and worry-lines from balancing bills. My waist? Honey, it's seen four pregnancies and a whole lot of comfort food. And my hair… well, let's just say it's on a journey of its own.  I haven’t had my lashes done since before my birthday AND for some odd reason rogue hairs keep popping up on my chin and cheeks!!  And HELL… I’m missing TEETH!!

It’s not about comparing myself to them, not really… cause I know a filler, filter, and BBL when I see one.  It’s more about, do I still feel seen? Do I still feel… desirable? Attractive?  Comfortable in my own skin?  It’s funny, when I was younger, I worried about the wrong

things. Trying to get thick, a bad hair day, and ugly shoes lol. Now, it’s deeper. It’s about the wear and tear of life, the sacrifices, the constant giving. Does all that giving, all that living, erase the "pretty" that was there?

I’ve always heard, "Beauty is as beauty does." And I try to live by that. I work hard, I raise my children to be good people, I try to be kind, even when I'm tired. I show up for my family, my friends, my community. Is that where the real beauty lies? In the strength it takes to keep going, to keep loving, to keep building, even when you're building alone? 

Maybe it's the shift in how others perceive me, or rather, how I imagine they perceive me. There was a time when a quick glance in a public place often held a certain undeniable spark, a fleeting acknowledgment of being “THAT girl.” Now, those glances feel more neutral, more… polite. And a second glance... forget about it. Or am I just projecting my own evolving insecurities onto the world?

Sometimes, I catch a glimpse of myself when I'm laughing with my kids, or when I've just finished a tough workout and I'm glowing (or sweating, same difference). In those moments, I see something. A spark. A resilience. A warmth. Maybe it's not the kind of beauty that stops traffic, but it's my beauty. It's the beauty of a life lived, of battles fought, of love poured out.  And I chase it until that next moment arrives.

So, I asked my sister, the licensed clinical counselor, and with all her expertise she says: "Girl you ain't never been ugly! People can call you fat, loud, broke... but ugly no ma'am! If you were ugly that's the FIRST thing people say... cause nothing trumps ugly." The sigh of relief and the rush of laughter was all the medicine I needed.

And maybe, just maybe, that’s more than enough. Like I said, I don’t always think this… so maybe the question isn't "Am I ugly?" but "Am I seeing myself clearly?" And if I'm honest, the answer is usually, "Hell no… You’re not even paying attention."  So maybe… that’s the answer… to love myself a little more, give myself the attention I want to receive.