What do you think?

I have had very few moments in my life where I felt exquisitely beautiful.  One of those times was right after I get my teeth whitened for my wedding.  I walked around, grinning like an idiot, thinking that someone ought to notice how fabulousso I look. And by someone I mean someone who didn't know it had happened because I had told them.  But alas.  Aside from immediate family and the person responsible for the teeth pampering, nobody seemed to notice.  Truthfully, I didn't really look that different.  Most of my exquisitely beautiful moments end similarly.  No one notices.

But when I look bad, hoooo, do people notice.

This morning in the wisps of dreamland I was carried off into a world where I was late for work because I just couldn't figure out how to get my pants on and random people from my old ward kept finding excuses for me stay home.  Whilst trapped in this nightmare my snooze button continued to get pushed by my own traitorous hand.  Because of this I was unable to shower and had to pull my hair up in a sloppy ponytail hopping no one would notice.

Nine o'clock rolled around and an older gentleman came through my line.  I smiled at him all decked out from head to toe in BYU paraphernalia.  I asked him how his day had been going and he said it was going well and returned the question.  I said that mine was going great.  He said he liked that answer because most people just say 'good'.  I smiled a little wider.  Cheerful people make me happy.  Then he told me I was beautiful and asked me why he thought that.  I looked at his BYU jacket once again.  "Because I have the spirit?"  I replied shyly.

"Yes!"  He declared.  "You have the Holy Ghost which makes you beautiful.  It shines from your head to your toes, three hundred and sixty degrees around you."  By this point I was feeling quite flattered.  You don't get compliments like this everyday.  He continued, "You are just so beautiful because you have the spirit.  You're not pretty, but still beautiful because the spirit is so bright in you!"  I tried to sustain my smile.  I'm not. . . pretty.  I get tired of hearing that.

I told myself to shake it off.  What did that crazy BYU man know anyway.  My husband thinks I pretty.  That's all that matters.  I put my smile back on and proceeded with my cashiering. Not an hour later a small girl ran up to the automatic doors; I turned around to greet her as pleasantly as possible.  She screamed and ran away.  Great, I thought, I scare children too.

Had those been the only two instances today I would have called it coincidence.  However, just before my break my old primary teacher from fourth grade came through my line.  Although she comes through fairly often it's always a treat to see her.  We immediately engaged in our typical conversation where she asks me about married life I ask her how her grandbabies are doing.  I turned around on the occasion to greet customers as they came through the doors which is also typical.  After one greeting I turned back to my old friend and noticed she was intently looking at the newly arrived guest.  "Is she your sister?" she asked.  I said that she wasn't only to hear this reply: "Really, cause she looks just like you."  I turned back to gaze at the victim of this comparison.  It was a woman (thankfully) who appeared to be in her early thirties.  Her hair was flat and ragged while her face was tired and dull.  My heart sank.  I look like her?  I began to laugh as to not cry.  Why was this happening so much today?

My mom, dad, husband, sister, friend and coworker have all told me I care too much about what other people think, and you know what?  That bothers me-- I don't want them to think that. . . because what they think matters so much to me, which only proves their point.  I need to care less what people think.

I guess their are worse things than not being fabulously beautiful.  I could be quadriplegic, have Donald Trump hair painfully growing on my back, have webbed-feet, or have all three.  I could have no spirit to shine from me, which would be worst of all.  So, I guess I'm grateful that my worth is not defined by physical beauty or by the opinions of health food junkie customers.  I am special because God made me, and he doesn't make mistakes.