Worthy to be loved
For us females, it begins when we first enter this world. It starts with the world admiring our 'beauty.' "Isn't she adorable," they say, and we become the centre of attention for as long as their attention span lasts. As we grow, we're introduced to the fairytales that speak of happily-ever-after. We're repeatedly told what the hero of our story should look like and how he should behave, as well as having it drummed into our head that "this" is what the perfect princess looks like and "this" is how she must behave in order to get the prince and keep him.
From the harmless stories of the young and innocent, we're led into our teen years and suddenly, more than ever before, we start to notice just how un-princess like we are. Not only do we take note of our imperfections, we start to view the outlook of the advertising world that uses 'sex' to sell their product and wonder where we fit into it all. We look at the air-brushed faces and bodies before us, and we see they are the princesses of the old stories, with their perfect smiles and come-to-bed eyes; they are the ones worthy of the fantasy come true; they, unlike us, are the ones worthy of love.
But it's not true.
I am not saying models aren't worth loving. Rather, I am saying we, the 'average' folk of the world, are too.
Most of us crawl through our teen years having lost the 'centre of attention' adornment many years earlier. If we are fortunate enough to make it into our adult years, we often stumble into them with our bloody wounds and battered pride, and a knowing that life is not as it should be. We come to see that the woman in the mirror is nothing whatsoever like the one in the fairytales - the one we imagined we would be as an adult; the perfect princess (in appearance, if not in character) that the fairytales seemed to promise we would be. And, by now, we've also come to see that the hero of our story is no hero at all, but rather one of the voices that hit us deeply and now reminds us - especially when we are alone - just how worthless we are.
I'm almost 47 years of age and glad to be so, because I now feel as though I don't have to continually compare myself to the 'beauties' of the world. Life is NOT about such vanity - and now, finally, after coming to terms with what is and is not perfect about me, I'm so content just to be ME. Ohhhh, how I wish I had come to terms with such things thirty years ago! How different and far more enjoyable and anxious-free my life would've been!
I want to declare here and now that I am so very tired of the lies thrown at us through advertising, telling us that we 'need this' and 'must have that' in order to be acceptable, worthy, sexy, or all of the above and more. We are made to feel inferior by the models they choose and the air-brushing they do in order to make even the most attractive girl that much more beautiful. They play on our insecurities every chance they get, then make us pay for it!
In fact, we could go so far to say that by buying into their advertisements (which they do solely to make money, not to serve us in any way) we are paying them to tell us just how unattractive and unacceptable we are. They then walk off laughing all the way to the bank - or to their cosmetic surgeon! - while we try to hide our imperfections. But we never do. Not from ourselves. We may be pleased with the face we present to the world, but we know the one that awaits us after the shower, when we wake up in the morning, and when we just couldn't be bothered facing anyone 'today'. They get richer and we never find great confidence with the products we purchased in order to make ourselves more appealing to the eyes of I don't know who, because, beneath that layer of foundation, behind that bra that gives lift to that which longs to go south, under the colours and cuts designed to crown us with man-made glory, we know what really lurks there.
And as for personality - well, what cracks the make-up, the 'sexy' car and clothes and latest technology can't cover up, we'll hide behind the tattoos, the alcohol, the one-night stands, or anything else that makes us feel beautiful and or loved for a short period of time. Or, if these things do not make us feel beautiful and loved, they sure help us to forget that we are not... for a time...
I stumbled through my growing years with great insecurity, believing in my heart that I was anything but worthy of love. There were people in my world that I loved dearly, but I never felt they loved me. I never blamed them for their attitude or behaviour towards me; I just figured it was my fault. This belief carried on through my teen years and way into adulthood. As a teen, my Dad even said to me that I looked for love in all the wrong faces. And he was so right.
It wasn't until I was broken and just did not want to live in this world - but could not leave it with or without my daughter - that I cried out to God and He came in what now feels like a heartbeat to rescue me from the gutter I had found myself in. He picked me up, dusted me off, set me back on my feet, gave me hope, and went on to show me, repeatedly, just how worthy of love He considers me to be.
Though I have much to share re my testimony (and will as the pages go on) I will jump forward fifteen years or so - from the moment I cried out to God - to a time when He urged me to record the meanings of the significant names in my life. It was then that, as I viewed these penned meanings, that I saw my heart written on paper. And to me, God (in Spirit) said, "The first child born from your womb is the first message you will take to the world."
My first born's name is Amanda. Amanda means Worthy to be Loved...
This is why I write. This is why I share my testimony. This is why I stand against my insecurities and fears, daring to bear my heart before all: God wants you to know - whether you are male or female - that He deems YOU worthy to be loved!