Do you see your own beauty?

I'm learning to look beyond the mirror and see the value in my flaws, strengths, and qualities that make me uniquely me.

“Do you know how beautiful you are?”

It’s a simple question, but for many of us, the answer is anything but.

My husband asks me this question often—at least once a week—and has since the start of our relationship. It’s leading, for sure, usually followed by a compliment about my eyes or something else he loves. What’s remarkable is that, even after all this time, he’s still genuinely curious about my answer. And, of course, it changes all the time.

Last week, he asked a slightly different version of the question: “Do you think you’re beautiful?”

It’s trickier, isn’t it? For most of us, the idea of seeing ourselves as beautiful feels complicated, even uncomfortable. Early in our relationship, I struggled to say yes. I’d acknowledge some parts of me were conventionally attractive, and on a good day, those parts might add up to something close to beautiful. But most days, it felt like a stretch.

These days, my answer still depends on where I am in the moment—on bad days, it might be no. But more and more, I find myself saying yes.

And it’s not because I’ve physically changed for the better. I’ve gained weight. I’ve let myself go gray. But I’ve also done so much work to accept—dare I say, even love— myself, there are days I think I am beautiful.

Beyond skin deep

They say beauty is only skin deep, but I disagree. What’s on the inside counts just as much—more, in fact. Over time, I’ve realized that the more I get to know someone, the more I judge their beauty by their heart rather than their appearance. Are they kind? Are they authentic? Do they make others feel seen and valued? These are the people I want to surround myself with.

It’s the same with love.

When I first met my husband, I thought he was attractive—tall, with clear blue eyes and a confident yet grounded demeanor. I was drawn to the way he spoke about his daughters; it was clear he valued strong women, which I found deeply appealing. But as I got to know him—his kindness, intelligence, fearlessness, and generosity—my attraction to him grew even stronger. It goes far beyond the physical.

It’s the same for me. As I’ve started to accept my flaws—both inside and out—and recognize they’re what make me uniquely me, I’ve found a deeper sense of peace. Yes, the external is there too, and to say it doesn’t matter would be false. But love for self has so little to do with the physical and everything to do with how we perceive ourselves.

How often do we take the time to see the beauty within ourselves—or within others—beyond the surface? What would change if we did?

Self-acceptance isn’t easy

My baby steps toward accepting myself didn’t happen overnight. I still have days where I struggle, especially with parts of myself I don’t love—like my difficulty showing empathy.

It’s something I’ve worked on for years. My matter-of-fact, logical approach—both in my physical expressions and the words I use—often read as distant or uncaring. It’s hurt people I love. It’s cost me relationships and kept me from getting close to others.

But this same quality has also been a strength. In times of crisis, my calm, level-headed approach makes people feel grounded. My directness can be exactly what’s needed in tough situations.

I’m learning to accept this part of myself. This doesn’t mean I don’t want to improve—to understand when a situation calls for more empathy and demonstrate it. I do, especially in my closest relationships. But accepting myself as I am has allowed me to approach change with kindness, rather than self-criticism.

It’s important to remember that self-acceptance doesn’t mean approving of yourself all the time.

It doesn’t mean ignoring your flaws.

It doesn’t mean not working on yourself.

It simply means starting from a place of self-compassion and allowing yourself grace.

And that self-compassion is necessary for real change.

Yes, we can be motivated by negativity, but most of the time, being hard on ourselves doesn’t create lasting change. It just reinforces negative beliefs.

Self-compassion didn’t just help me accept myself; it gave me the foundation to grow. When we practice small acts of self-compassion, we begin to see ourselves in a different light, even in those quiet, fleeting moments.

I’m not an expert, but I know this: in my journey to heal my relationship with my body—which turned into a quest to heal my whole self—I had to think differently. Hating myself wasn’t helping. Neither was avoiding the discomfort of difficult emotions. One of the first steps was allowing myself to feel—not just emotions, but sensations. Where did I feel them? What did they feel like? This was something I had spent most of my life avoiding.

Tara Brach, one of my favorite meditation teachers, often speaks about separating feelings from facts, allowing yourself to experience emotions like waves in the ocean. You feel them as they wash over, but they are not you. Eckhart Tolle’s The Power of Now touches on this same idea, reminding us that emotions are transient and not who we are.

I began practicing this, learning to observe the waves without judgment. I’d feel them fully, sometimes labeling them, and noticing where they landed in my body. Somehow, that simple act of acknowledgment allowed them to pass. It was transformative: instead of being consumed by my emotions or burying them, I could let them flow through me.

Mindfulness helped me realize that emotions are part of the human experience, not a reflection of my worth or identity. When I stopped resisting my feelings and started approaching them with curiosity and compassion, I found more space for acceptance—and for love.

It’s a big word, especially for those of us who’ve never felt it toward ourselves. Yes, there are people who will never feel love for themselves, but I believe it’s possible for anyone who is open to it.

Start small. Maybe just sit with the moment and tune into the gentle rise and fall of your chest as you breathe. If this feels overwhelming, seek the support of a therapist, trusted friend, or family member to help you take those first steps.

What does self-compassion look like for you today? If you're not sure, what small kindness could you extend yourself right now?

But what about beauty?

It’s harder, isn’t it? Beauty feels so tied to worth, especially for women.

We have some control over the physical aspects of beauty, sure, but not all of them. What we do have control over is how we choose to see ourselves—and that feels most important. I truly believe that how we perceive ourselves shapes how others see us.

My perspective has shifted in recent years as I’ve become more aware of the influence of diet culture. My definition of beauty has expanded. It’s not about reaching an ideal or conforming to narrow standards. True beauty is a radiance that comes from within—something you can see in others when they’re at peace with themselves.

In doing the work, I’ve realized that beauty—or rather, how I perceive it within myself—is just another wave, a feeling that ebbs and flows. When I feel most beautiful, it’s because I feel at peace with myself—aligned with my values, treating myself with kindness, and less concerned with perfection.

When we honor our complexity, kindness, and humanity—when we live in harmony—that beauty shines outward.

Now, it’s your turn. Most of us have a complicated relationship with our bodies and self-image. Mine is far from perfect, despite progress. Do you have days when you feel beautiful? How do you define beauty for yourself? I’d love to hear your thoughts.