My partner adores my appearance. If you were to ask him to describe me, he would say I have beautiful, thick hair in a striking platinum shade that cascades in waves. He believes I don’t need makeup; my blue eyes are filled with secrets and mischief that light up my face. He especially admires my lips, which he describes as cherry-red and reminiscent of Cupid’s bow.
He appreciates my small waist and finds my softly rounded belly attractive. My breasts are full and perfectly proportioned to my hips, while my long legs taper down to delicate ankles, making my slim feet look stunning in either flats or heels. I embody a voluptuous softness that he can’t resist. He relishes how my curves fit perfectly in his hands and how my hair curls around his face when we kiss. He loves watching me walk away, and I enjoy feeling his gaze on me.
His perception of me is so powerful that it makes me believe I am that woman. When he calls me beautiful, I feel like I can conquer the world. I feel fierce, powerful, and undeniably feminine. I walk with grace, seeing myself through his eyes. My smile is genuine, and my laughter leaves behind lines of joy. My hips sway gently, and my breasts stand proudly. The contours of my body are soft, the slope of my shoulders flowing seamlessly into the strength of my arms, which have grown strong from nurturing our children.
Yet, I am often taken aback when I catch a glimpse of myself in a mirror, expecting to see the vision my partner describes. Instead, the reflection reveals a woman who feels disconnected from that fantasy. I wonder where the truth lies: in his mind or mine?
Seeing my reflection can leave me with a dull ache in my chest, almost like a sense of shame—not exactly shame, but rather the disappointment that comes from letting down someone you love. It’s reminiscent of the time I accidentally broke my mother’s cherished china serving tray, a family heirloom. I can still picture her falling to her knees, trembling as she touched the shards, her eyes filled with sorrow. I knew then that I had disappointed her.
As an adult, I experience a similar rush of discomfort when I look in the mirror. The image before me is a far cry from the alluring woman in my partner’s eyes. I see an average suburban mom. My hair, while nice, feels heavy and flat, now a darker shade thanks to the hormonal changes from my pregnancies. My once vibrant blue eyes are now framed by pale lashes that need mascara to stand out. My cheeks are cheerful yet fuller, and my lips are chapped due to neglect. My skin, while decent, is starting to show signs of aging, with a prominent line forming between my brows.
I am more than just voluptuous. I am more than just curves. My waist feels swallowed by the remnants of baby weight, folding over my lap and touching my thighs when I sit. My belly is marked with silver lines from stretching during pregnancy and bears a scar from surgery that saved my children’s lives. While my breasts are full, they sag under the weight of nursing three little ones. My legs, though long, are also plump, and my thighs rub together when I walk. Heels? I don’t wear them anymore.
Reconciling my reality with my partner’s fantasy is a struggle I face daily. Yet, I admire the woman he loves. She is who I aspire to become. I choose to embrace the reflection in my partner’s eyes, dismissing the one in the mirror. And this choice empowers me.
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Summary
The article explores the disconnect between how a woman perceives herself versus how her partner sees her. Despite her partner’s adoration and admiration for her beauty, she struggles with her self-image, feeling inadequate when faced with her reflection. Ultimately, she chooses to embrace the version of herself that her partner loves, highlighting the power of perception in shaping self-esteem.
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