"You are beautiful."

"You are beautiful," he said.

Words only family had told me.

Words only those who wanted something from me had said.

Words that up until that moment I TRUELY didn't understand.

Words I still try to comprehend--

Because still to this day I struggle to really believe that one statement:

YOU are beautiful.

You--As in me.

Me--at the time I was 21 and still had never been touched by a man.

I had never been in love.

I never learned what love was and how to let the other person feel that way.

I pulled away from kisses.

I held hands at a distance.

Saying no to anything that was unfamiliar and made me FEEL for another person because I had no idea that I could ever live up to this statement people said:

You are beautiful.

Drilled into my head--

This statement.

That somehow I was entitled to this thing called--

Beauty.

A genetic lottery.

A chance.

It was something that wasn't earned.

Something that I put no work towards.

It just was.

So I tried to accept it.

But the more people said--

You are beautiful.

The more of a fact it became.

The more I took it for granted.

You are--

Beautiful: A category that at the tender age of four  I owned and somewhere along my later years I lost.

The ownership of the phrase was lost to my world.

My world at a young age--

Where Britney and Christina wore crop tops.

Where you were either baby, sporty, scary, posh or a ginger.

Where to be with Aaron Carter you had to be blonde and beautiful.

A world where beautiful wasn't enough.

You had to be a specific type of beautiful.

You had to have a specific look.

But still I kept hearing--

You are beautiful.

And I told other people that same statement.

I saw in them what others had seen in me.

Beauty.

Sometimes it was skin deep.

But other times I wanted them to really hear me.

Because I watched a young pageant girl call herself fat.

A girl that was smart, naturally gorgeous, and physically fit.

A girl who was BEAUTIFUL.

So I said to her,

"You are--beautiful."

And I made her repeat that she had beauty.

And I made her say it say it again.

And again.

And when she took home the crown I asked her, "What are you?"

She looked back at me and smiled.

She stated her title--then added, "I am beautiful."

21 years it took me.

Twenty. One. Years.

He said it to me after a date.

A tender moment that only he and I would ever really know about.

"You are beautiful."

I had done beauty pageants.

I had walked on catwalks.

I had been in plays.

But I still had trouble accepting the compliment.

So he said it again,

"You are beautiful."

It was summer.

I had little makeup on.

I wasn't dressed up.

I just--was.

And as much as I wanted to accept the compliment with a sarcastic remark I didn't.

"You are beautiful."

I went home and sent him a message about how gorgeous another woman was.

How I wanted to look as beautiful as she was.

And he was mad.

"You are beautiful."

And he went on to say that I wasn't acting like the girl he was liking.

Because--

You are beautiful.

Was still just a fact I had no ownership of.

And so I thought:

Who was the girl he was liking?

And what was beauty?

She--as in me--had beauty.

She was confident.

She did not view herself as above or below anyone else.

She had an essance that was completely her.

She didn't care if she laughed too hard or too loud.

She ate what she wanted.

She loved her body.

She was content.

She--as in me--was beautiful.

So with him--I re-learned the statement

"You are beautiful."

A statement I am still getting to know.

Because I am no longer four-years-old.

I have an idea of what I THINK beauty should be.

And there were others after him that said the statement.

And there will still be others that will say the same words.

But I have learn to say those words to myself.

I have say it with intensity and believe that it is more than just a statement.

I have to regain ownership of the statement:

"You are beautiful."

Because I am beautiful.

And I am more than a statement.

I am more than a fact.

I am more than just words.

I am more.

I AM BEAUTIFUL.

And I have to celebrate that fact.

The more that ordinary fact is celebrated--the less ordinary it is.

Because beauty should be celebrated.

I will yell it to the world.

I will tell myself quietly.

I will pass my reflection and own the fact that

I AM BEAUTIFUL.

That way I will not need someone to remind me:

I AM BEAUTIFUL.

I will know it.

I AM BEAUTIFUL.

I will cherish it.

I AM BEAUTIFUL.

I will share it.

I AM BEAUTIFUL.

and everyone will know.

One last thing,

I just needed you to know--

YOU...are beautiful.