Masterpiece

Girls, we usually have it all figured out, right? Schedules printed and put to memory, Starbucks cups piping hot every morning, friendships solid, relationships sealed. We fight with our moms and stomp to our rooms when our dads make us go change out of our ridiculously cute outfits. It’s verbatim, it’s redundant, and it’s comfortable. We’re used to it.

Or maybe, we’re the other type of girl. Room a mess, hair a mess, homework covered in Cheeto stains, black leggings or sweats to class, friendships are still solid, relationships are still sealed. Our moms still stress us to no end and our dads just “don’t get it.” So it’s safe to say that it’s still verbatim, redundant, and comfortable. We’re still used to it.

We have it all down to a science, so much so that we could probably write books about it. But there is one thing, one person that we don’t have memorized just yet. Ourselves.

It’s not easy being a girl, especially when that girl slowly starts to become a woman. It creeps up on us so suddenly that we don’t notice it. All we focus on is the fact that we’re getting older, not what we become when we get there. All of a sudden, people are asking us when we’ll get a boyfriend, what our career path is, or when do we plan to start a family. Instantly, we become the ones that have to make it all happen, even when we’re not ready for it.

We become the center of everyone's attention, like their project, something they can mold and shape into what they want it to be. No one ever stops to tell us that we’re fine right where we are because they’re too busy trying to push us elsewhere.

I was talking with some friends the other day, and we all agreed that women as a whole are much too hard on themselves. We look in the mirror and rattle off hundreds of things that we wish we could change. Small things, insignificant things. I actually caught myself looking in the mirror once, wondering why I had “huge” pores. We sit and criticize ourselves as if it’s some type of sport, like a game we’re addicted to, but all hate to play.

Recently, I sent my best friend a song I loved by JP Cooper called “The Only Reason.” She loved it so much that she went and listened to more songs by him. And then she found “Masterpiece”:

And HonestlyI Love You To InfinityDarling You’re My MasterpieceAnd No Pablo PicassoCould Capture The Beauty I See("Masterpiece" - JP Cooper)

The song is beautiful, but those specific lyrics hit me hard. He’s writing a song for whoever it is that he loves. And he’s taking the time to tell her that she is a work of art, a masterpiece. And this girl is painfully human, flaws and all, but yet and still he sees her as the most beautiful thing.

We need to look at ourselves that way. Regardless of a boy that loves us or a song that tells us to do so. Each one of us is a masterpiece. Our hips could be wide, our hair could be wild, but we’re still beautiful all the same.

I’m not sure who came up with the idea that beauty knew a size, a shape, or a color. Works of art have no boundaries, it’s art all the same.

So darling, wherever you are and whatever you’re doing, I need you to remember that beauty knows you, and loves you to infinity. You are a masterpiece, and no Pablo Picasso could capture the beauty that the world sees.

And go listen to this song, it’s insane.

Until Next Time

xx