My Mother's Hands

When I was a little girl, I loved my mother’s hands. They weren’t what fashion would call ideal. They weren’t long and pale. They were sturdy, with slightly square palms, dusted with freckles and sun spots she could never quite fade. She hated that about them. I didn’t.

To me, they were beautiful because of what they could do. They were capable hands, moving across a keyboard, a typewriter, a piano. They were creative hands, guiding fabric through a sewing machine or sketching something from nothing. They were my mother’s hands, and I loved them because I loved her.

Now, as an adult, I have those same hands. They’re capable too, and when I miss her, I look down and there she is again, threading a needle, showing me what to do.

We are all a blend of physical and emotional qualities. While most of us don’t meet some external definition of perfection, I think we are more beautiful because of the things that make us different.

I often give my clients a simple exercise. List five physical attributes you appreciate about your appearance. Then ask a friend to do the same. Choose carefully. Not a partner. Someone honest. The kind of friend who tells the truth and would also help you hide a body if necessary.

When you compare the lists, notice your reaction. Do you believe what they wrote? Do their answers make you uncomfortable, or can you accept them? If something feels hard to accept, ask yourself why. Is it something you’ve never seen in yourself? Or something you’ve spent years criticizing that someone else quietly finds beautiful?

You might be surprised by what you hear.

I was. I broke my own rule and asked my husband, who is also my best friend. Most of his answers didn’t surprise me, but the first one did. He said he loved my hands.

And just like that, something shifted. The very thing my mother once saw as a flaw, something I had inherited without much thought, was, to someone else, beautiful.

That’s the part we miss. We spend so much time trying to fix, hide, or minimize the things that make us us, when those might be the exact things other people are drawn to.

So maybe the work isn’t to correct every flaw. Maybe it’s to see more clearly. The things you’ve been apologizing for are the very things that make you unforgettable.

If you'd like to receive new posts directly in your inbox, you can subscribe for free here:

https://thesimplifiedwordrobe.substack.com