"One big and painful red pimple" or "Why in the world am I so vain?"

OK, so I knew the title of this post would get you reading. Forgive me for having a marketing background for a minute, would ya?

And now back to the big, painful, bump of a red pimple on my chin. It's true, I don't normally blog about such things--hey, at least I spared you a picture! Ha! Stick with me here...there's a point to this post.

Yesterday I noticed that what was just a smidge of oil on the left of my chin had turned into a monster. OK, maybe I'm slightly overexaggerating, but it was the pain that first alerted me to this big red dot. I tried to kill the dastardly thing overnight with a swab of apple cider vinegar, but it would not be felled. This morning, as I squinted while re-examining this piece of work in the mirror, the big ugly thing stared back at me. It took a fair amount of mineral makeup to make the big bump "flesh-colored" as opposed to "flaming red." 

But honestly, I shrugged it off on my way to church as no big deal. It hasn't been as big a deal, to be honest, since I hit my 30s. But just before book club tonight I did something I try not to do: for some reason, I told myself maybe I should just skip book club because of this painful red bump on my chin. Yes, I actually had this stupid thought. And I am not 13 or even 23. (Fortunately, I quickly got over it and went anyway.)

I had these thoughts because I am human, and female, and many times, much too obsessed about the image I'm presenting to the outside world. Too often, I buy into the hoopla all that advertising tries to manufacture in my brain that what I am is not quite enough.

Can you relate to any of the following thoughts/comments?

* "I wonder if he or she can see my roots while we're talking, because I know I have at least 4 or 5 more grays..."

* "If I just found the right brand/fit of clothes, I just know I'd look more curvy, slimmer, classy, sexy, polished, or more like Jennifer Aniston. If only.... (sigh)"

* "Thanks, everyone tells me I have nice eyes, but really, it's just because I wear colored contacts..." or "You like this old thing? You don't think it makes me look (fill-in-the-blank) fat, old, too eager, too dressy, too much like Nancy Grace?"

* "When I get rid of my ... extra 30 pounds, or my acne, or my big nose, or my lopsided ears, or my crooked teeth, or my age spots, or my ugly [you-name-the-body-part], I'll feel loads better about myself and life will be good."

* "If I start to improve myself, I might, somehow, one day, attract a man I want to date or marry."

I'll stop here, although I could go on. Glamour, and even Redbook and Woman's Day have sold us the idea that physical perfection is a worthy goal. And as a result, we just can't get over ourselves. I'll admit it: I can be totally consumed with what I perceive to be my own inadequacies. I can be a self-improvement junkie. Even though I'd really love to call myself low-maintenance, I use Neutrogena nighttime cream as one of my final bedtime rituals, and Neutrogena daytime lotion before I can think about starting my day. And those are only two of the personal products that keep me prepared for the world, my friends. I'd actually be embarrassed to go through my list.

If I let myself, I can have this terrible habit of being alternately obsessed with my looks and how to improve them, or self-effacing and negative when presented with a compliment. (For instance, I wanted to believe David's aunt when she told me I had a beautiful smile a few weeks ago, but I told myself she didn't see the crooked teeth hiding in my mouth.)

And, don't you see, friends, that either choice comes from pride and self-addiction? The truth is, I need to get over myself. And when I make this choice, and see myself like God sees me, I smile. And I relax and feel warm inside; I know I have something that is valuable to my Creator, and it has nothing to do with how much I weigh or how many pimples might or might not pop up on my chin.

It's all about the beauty found in Psalm 139, this one particular psalm in the Bible, and how God created me, knows me, values me, and protects me. And suddenly, when I am secure in a love that transcends any physical limitation or anxiety, it's not about me anymore. It's about me loving people around me in a deeper way--no matter what they look like. It's so much closer to the way God thinks, even though I still have a long way to go.

Sometimes you meet people who remind you so clearly and definitively about how God feels about each of us. And my dear friends' daughter Angie is one of these people. Once an athletic and social 17-year-old, a car accident put her in a special chair and for now, has taken her ability to speak. But on the other hand, she communicates a lot. Each time I see her, her whole face lights up in a smile that is hard to describe beyond the words "pure and lovely." Her whole being radiates this delightful peace and joy that she shares with everyone who meets her. God's heart shines through her and reminds me that I can rest in His love, and let go of my self-addiction, and really start to believe that each of us, just as we are, are infinitely treasured in all our uniqueness.

When we realize this is true of us, we can start to see others in the same way, too. And we can say "so what" to one really painful red pimple--or any other thing standing between us and discovering how to choose a life of love instead. We can forget about ourselves more often and say an honest "thank you" when someone pays us a compliment. And the side benefit of believing what God says about us is that it creates a rare inner beauty in today's world--a quality that many around us are drawn to like moths to a flame.

I don't know about you, but when I'm honest with myself, I'd choose the inner beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit anyday. 

Thoughts?