“You’re beautiful,” he whispered.
Stretch marks race across my tightening skin, my wedding ring is in a drawer due to involuntary swelling fingers, and those extra 25 pounds have begun to give my face that “gathering-nuts-to-prepare-for-winter” look.
Eight months into marriage and 34 weeks pregnant, my winter-white body is a long ways from the tanned, whitened, waxed, and toned woman Elisha said “I do” to.
Yet every single day of our marriage, he has told me I’m beautiful.
Every. Single. Day.
Those hot summer afternoons with my lean body brown in a swimsuit, that early first trimester when I struggled with bloating and scarring acne, or these final weeks of feeling like a beached whale . . .
“You’re hott,” he winks.
Pretty. Sexy. Beautiful.
As a girl that relied more on her genes than she realized, I’ve struggled coming to grips with things I simply can’t control in pregnancy. I’ve fought the hard reality that regardless of how I eat, or workout, or try, in some ways my body will do whatever the heck it wants.
And he’s been there the whole time. Loving me. Cherishing me. Making me feel beautiful.
The beauty and trial of marriage is that you can’t hide yourself. No make-up, no tactful clothing, no smoke and mirrors to hide the flaws.
And yet my striking husband, still chooses to tell me every day that somehow, to him, I am beautiful.
To me, his opinion is all that matters.
Because of Elisha’s unconditional love, it’s easy for me to believe there’s a God that loves me wholly and deeply despite my imperfections. My husband is an example of Christ’s ability to look at our hearts instead of judging outside appearances.
May we all choose to see the beauty,