Beauty Has Seasons
Not spring.
Not summer.
Not fall.
Not winter.
The seasons of a woman's life.
Our twenties.
Motherhood.
Menopause.
Grandchildren.
Retirement.
Starting over.
Beginning again.
Somewhere along the way, we decided the bikini belonged to one season.
The season of youth.
But who made that rule?
Why do we quietly retire the things we once loved because our bodies have changed? Why do we let wrinkles, softer curves, scars, stretch marks, or the passing of time decide what we're allowed to wear?
They say with age comes wisdom.
And that's true.
But something else comes along too.
A sharper perspective and a whole lot less concern of what everyone else thinks.
You begin to see your body not as something to criticize, but as something that has carried you through every season of your life.
It has weathered heartbreak and joy.
It has embraced lovers, held children, buried parents, celebrated milestones, and storms you never thought you'd survive.
When we're young, beauty is often measured in pieces. Our eyes. Our hair. Our waist. Our breasts. Our legs. Our skin. It's something people can point to.
But somewhere along the way, that changes.
Beauty stops being a collection of features and becomes the woman herself.
It becomes the way she carries herself. Her resilience. Her laughter. Her compassion. Her confidence. Her perspective. The life she's lived and the woman she's become.
You can no longer point to one thing and say, that's what makes her beautiful.
Because when all four seasons come together, the beauty of it all, is breathtaking
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