Yes, yes I am a hottie. What makes me a hottie? Motherhood.
I grew up overshadowed by my older and younger sister’s beauty. They had the come hither type of beauty. One that attracted men of all ages. They never lacked in potential suitors. I, on the other hand, was not blessed in the way of looks. I have many other wonderful qualities, but in looks? Nah.
When I started dating my husband at 16, I was enthralled with his sexiness. He was everything I could have imagined–red hair, muscular body, perfect kissing height, and older. Plus, he said he loved me.
Try as I may, I doubted the sincerity in his attentions. He could not possibly love a plain girl like me. I thought it was inevitable that he would find someone better and our relationship would end.
When he decided to go on a mission 2 years later, we promised we would write and marry once he returned. I knew this was impossible. He would return, realize he was mistaken in his regard toward me, and find someone more suited for him. So, I wrote faithfully but always with the seeds of doubt keeping me at a distance.
During those two years, I was accepted and began attending an University. I changed my atrocious eating habits and lazy exercise routines. I initially gained weight, then began to slowly shed off the pounds.
As the two years drew to a close, Mr. B firmly reminded me he loved me. We decided to set a tentative date to marry. When I met him at the airport, he embraced me. At that point, all my doubts vanished. He really did love me.
Reader, you may wonder about my own feelings. Have no fear, I was head-over-heels in love with this magnificent guy. He had me from hello (cliche it up!).
After we were married, we moved back to where we would both be finishing our educations. We moved into the basement of an elderly man I knew and had helped out occasionally over the years. Over those first few months, he often remarked that I “got prettier everyday” and asked why. I told him marriage.
It was true. Being married to a fantastic guy had increased my self-worth and self-confidence. He often told me I was beautiful. Not just to get some, but because he really believed it. Once I realized this, I allowed the compliments to plant themselves inside my soul. I began to live up to his exclamations. I became beautiful in an unimaginable way.
Then, I became pregnant. Pregnancy, toward the end, gave my skin a special glow. A glow that continued after I had the baby.
Shortly after having that baby, I became pregnant again. As before, I developed a glow. This glow has not diminished. It has grown brighter. It has enveloped my whole personage. It has become apart of my being.
I may have a few stretch marks here and there, but I am beautiful. I am sexy. I am hot.