Beautiful Me

My beloved Christine Cummings can currently be seen in
"Don't Dress for Dinner" at STAGEStheater in Fullerton, CA
Click here for tickets.

You've seen it - the post going around FB wherein the person posts a collage of five photos that make them feel beautiful and then tag others to do the same. I thought I had successfully avoided it (not because of the beauty issue, but because I'm generally not a fan of those chain letter type posts) until I was recently tagged by a childhood friend. Her collage was a stunner. She is an aunt to three wonderful boys and, as an aunt to three wonderful boys of my own, I can completely relate to her thoughts that she never feels more beautiful than when she is with them. I'd say that's the time I feel second-most beautiful. I feel most beautiful now that I've become my son's mama.
Before becoming a mom, I was toned and taut, I always straightened my hair, I always wore enough makeup to "enhance" my natural beauty, but not overwhelm it. Before becoming a mom, I wore flattering clothes and shoes to match, I always showered, and I brushed, flossed, and rinsed day and night. Before becoming a mom, I wore fresh-scented perfume, strutted when I walked, and always had earrings in my ears.
Now, I have a flabby belly with stretch marks from stem to stern, my hair is currently up in a half-assed ponytail after having fallen asleep with it wet last night (oh, and it's curly...if you have curly hair, you know the horrors of falling asleep with wet hair), and I wear no makeup at all (on the handful of occasions I've worn makeup since my son was born, he gets peeved and spends the day trying to convince me to remove it). Now, I wear clothes that are relatively clean and hole-less and flip-flops, that is, if I wear clothes or shoes at all (on the rare occasion I get dressed, my son immediately asks where we're going), I feel fortunate to get a shower every other day, and feel super on my game when I brush once a day. Now, I wear the scent of peanut butter on my boobs (which my son's peanut butter cheeks transfer to said breasts), I have a child either on my hip or holding my hand as we hop, skip, or jump across a parking lot, and I am fairly certain that's some kind of cereal hanging from my lobe.
And, again, I have never felt more beautiful than I do now. Knowing that my body grew a human being and has successfully nourished and strengthened his body for going on four years now makes me feel beautiful. Knowing that I am available to him for hugs, laughs, and encouragement at all times makes me feel beautiful. Knowing that my muscles, brain, and heart are powerful enough to protect him from all harm whether real or perceived makes me feel beautiful. Knowing that I truly love him without condition and that he knows that makes me feel beautiful. Laughing with him, loving him, learning with him - they all make me feel beautiful. Then, of course, there are the times when he tells me, "Mama, you're a beautiful woman." Ya, that makes me feel beautiful, too.
So, I may not be People magazine's version of beautiful. I may not be in an ad for diet pills anytime soon. I'm not likely to be asked for my phone number by some burly 20 year old. No matter. I am beautiful. I am my son's mama.