Monday, 2 May 2016


I was the world's cutest kid. Maybe not the world's, but I was pretty damn cute. Here's me being adorable in 1991-

Here's me (with my brother, but ignore him) being adorable in 1992-

And here's me being adorable in 1993-

Of course, it all went downhill from there. My blonde curls became auburn frizz (that I started dyeing when I was 9, because even my mum thought it was boring), I got glasses when I was 3 and my terrible dress sense became much less cute after the age of about 6. 

Or, well, maybe it didn't go downhill.

I bet that everyone has at least one photo of themselves that they can point to to show how absolutely adorable they were. I bet you were also the world's cutest kid. I bet your grandma was. Hell, I bet if she had one, my grandma would be able to show me a picture of herself at my age and marvel at how she was a gorgeous 20-something. And that's the thing- I bet when I'm old and can lay the evidence of a long life before my grandchildren, I'll be amazed at how beautiful I was at 25.

You're meant to think you were once lovely and that you screwed it all up. That you were once pure, but you muddied it. That you were beautiful, but that you threw it all away. It's the same story that you could read or watch or hear about anywhere, the wizened old crone who tells anyone who will listen that they were once glorious too. Society throws it at us all the time. We're programmed to wish for eternal youth and to believe that the only reason we're no longer how we were is that we didn't guard our youthful beauty as much as we should have.

Of course we all age. If you've made it this far in this post, you'll have aged a few minutes whilst distracted by my thoughts. The thing is though, it's all inevitable. We're born, we age (some for longer than others) and then we die. What we do whilst we age is what's important and I'm so tired of the idea that it's all downhill. That being young and beautiful is everything. Especially since we never even recognise our youth whilst we have it. Don't even get me started on how we never seem to recognise our own beauty.

I, for one, am tired of thinking that it's my own fault I don't have all the same levels of beauty that I had before 1993.

I'm an adult. I'm old to 5 years olds and young to 85 year olds. Once I was that 5 year old and one day- I hope- I'll be that 85 year old. And I hope I tell you how I was as beautiful in 2016 as I was in 1993. And I hope that when that day comes, some time towards the end of this century, I'll tell you how beautiful I am in my 80s and how I know this because I've spent 60-some years believing in my own vitality.

1 comment:

  1. I completely agree with you Rebecca, we are all beautiful at any age... I recognize more now that I'm pretty... it took me a long time to believe that... I'm glad you're learning this much younger than I did xox ♡♡♡