The Deepest Secret of Beauty

She was the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, and I make that statement without a hint of exaggeration.

Β I was literally transfixed as she made her way in. I’d be lying if I said that I actually saw her enter though, I was working. But as Russ vacuumed the floor, I felt her come through the door. It was faint and just at the tip of whatever extra perception I may have, but the way that everything seemed to get brighter was a dead give away for me. I turned to see a woman with deep, warm, blue eyes, somehow without even a single lick of any kind of strength or intensity, which I’m usually very attracted to. Instead, there was confidence. Not the kind of confidence that boasts in its own greatness, but the type that simply doesn’t need any acknowledgement. And not in an arrogant, “I don’t need your praise,” kind of way, but in a way that whatever virtue is there is only an afterthought like, “It’s not really a big deal…” Like it’s something you don’t really think about too often, “It just isn’t that important.”
Now that I think about it, I suppose that’s called humility, huh?
She had an air about her that projected confidence and comfort: yes, comfort as in making everyone around her feel relaxed, but more so, one that showed that she was completely comfortable in her own skin. Honestly, her body type is among the last things I remember aboutΒ her, but I do remember that she was dressed in a gym outfit and had some meat on her bones. She wasn’t overweight by any means, but she certainly wasn’t a swimsuit model. That’s more than enough to make many women feel unattractive, but not her. She glowed. She knew she was gorgeous, and again, didn’t need any reminders. She was with two other women, and as they smiled and laughed together they each seemed so carefree. That’s the perfect term, carefree. Like she was beautiful but she didn’t really care she was. You might disagree with her, but it wasn’t really important anyway. If you agreed, then that was cool, it still wasn’t important though. I mean, I think I that I could have walked over to her and looked her straight in the face and told her that she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen and she’d just smile and thank me, pleased not because I thought she was beautiful and she enjoys being complimented; but because I could see clearly enough to recognize a type of beauty that is deeper than layered makeup, half nakedness, body types, fashion fads, and cheap (see: expensive) salon tricks. A beauty that lies far deeper than youth, and actually advances with age, the type that few people can see or actually appreciate. The fashion trends of 25 year olds don’t faze her. And since we’re speaking of age, she had to have been in her 50s. That only added to her mystique.

Her just-above-shoulder-length long blonde hair was curled at the ends had began graying significantly and she hadn’t even seemed to notice, again, it wasn’t important. She was so comfortable with it! Comfortable with being in her 50s, comfortable with her weight, comfortable with herself. My second thought was that she must have an amazing husband.

Credit to Tiana Marie Photography

My dad always told me that the more you love a woman, the more beautiful she becomes. I never forgot it. I always figured that it must be similar to how a man thinks his car is more beautiful over time simply because he has poured time effort and money into it. Men tend to value whatever costs them the most. Proverbs says that a friend hard-won is long kept.Β I think that what he actually meant though, is that women actually become more beautiful as they feel more loved. If that sounds far-fetched, think of the glow of a bride on her wedding day. Though that glow is momentary, I believe that there’s a deeper one that comes from many years of consistent, unconditional love.

I know that I’m not going to find a woman my age who’s like that, but seeing her has honestly made me reconsider what I’ve been looking for in a woman. I have a higher standard now than I ever have, but for me, I think that’s a healthy step forward and a sign of maturity. I hope that I can be the type of husband who can help a woman become that secure. God help me.

via Tumblr

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