I saw this restaurant sign the other day while driving down the interstate. "Now hiring Babes, all others need not apply." Needless to say my jaw fell to the floor. The sign had irritated me. I knew that due to the fact that I was clutching the steering wheel a bit tighter and my nostrils started to flair. I was about to become unhinged - ready to fly over there on my broom and unleash the monkeys. That's when I heard laughter from the backseat. It was my son, smiling, waving, and giggling at my upturned eyes in the rear view mirror. For the moment, I am reminded by the small child in the back seat that my worth is more than skin deep.
I wonder, "what is a babe anyway"?
To me, a babe is defined by society. A babe changes her shape, looks, hair, clothes, etc. to fit what is currently beautiful to the eye. Much like a mirage to a thirsty man - she shimmers, shines, and appears to be the remedy for his present affliction. But isn't a mirage just empty trickery that leaves the observer with nothing but a mouthful of dry sand. A babe is the capstone of unrealistic beauty. Imperfections have to be nipped, tucked, pulled, sucked, lifted, sprayed, dyed, covered, and erased - they simply aren't allowed. Uniqueness isn't always prized in a babe, uniqueness just might have too many flaws. You could say that society says to women and men that if "one of these things is not like the other, then it doesn't belong".
I believe that each one of us has been gifted a God given beauty that is all our own. We aren't perfect, but we are uniquely beautiful. I look at my own face in the mirror and I know that there is no one on Earth that looks exactly like me. No one. I have come to realize, and God teaches me daily, that I am beautifully flawed. Sounds strange right? My flaws make me who I am and they make me lovely. Just like a piece of pottery is unique from all of its sister pieces - so am I. Imperfect beauty. The type of beauty that endures and never makes an excuse for those little differences. It's the type of beauty that begins in the soul and radiates outward.
I want my son to understand this and dwell in it. I want him to break the mould and love a woman because of what makes her unique; not love because she is the carbon copy of societal whims. I want him to adore the imperfections because he isn't perfect either. I want him to know that the perfect woman doesn't exist, but a beautifully imperfect woman does. A real woman, a godly woman, a unique woman.
In order for my son to learn the value of imperfect beauty I have to set the example. I have to decide everyday to accept myself just as I am. I have to teach him how to love himself, by first loving the person God made me to be. Because, if I wait until I am "babely" perfect to accept and love myself, then I still won't be happy. What a babe is now, isn't what a babe will be 5, 10, 20 years down the road; but there will never be another like me. There will never be another boy like my son. We are unique. God knew what he was doing when he crafted us and He doesn't make mistakes.
I am imperfectly perfect and that's what makes me beautiful.