Every morning, when my husband Jake stirs from sleep, he rolls over and casually drapes his slender arm over me. He buries his chin in the crook of my shoulder, and with lips that are dry from sleep, he whispers a little tune. (To be honest, it’s less a song and more of a chant. Singing is not exactly his forte.) But the words are always the same: “You are the most beautiful wife in the universe…”
And just like that, the tiny hairs on my neck and the little hairs in my ears perk up and pay attention.
I’m currently sporting a pair of cropped yoga pants that have a significant hole in the back and a simple white tank top—sans bra. My last shower was two nights ago, I think. My hair is a tangled mess, stuck to the pillowcase, likely hiding the drool that trickled down my (two) chin(s) during the night.
Naturally, I’m not winning any beauty contests. I’m not even sure I’d make the Top 100. If an award for the “Most Beautiful Wife in the Universe” were held, I’d probably be disqualified just for the state of my leg hair.
But here’s the kicker: he genuinely thinks I am that wife. He truly believes I’m the most beautiful one.
Me?
Before I met him, I had four kids. I’ve got stretch marks in places I didn’t know could stretch—behind my knees, over my ribs. My torso is too long for my short legs, which dangle awkwardly when I sit at my desk, reminiscent of a character from The Big Comfy Couch. I wear a size ten in jeans and have a small army of Spanx. When I do run (which only happens if I’m being chased or racing to the Salvation Army’s Everything’s $1 Day), my somewhat deflated bosom bounces in a way that’s more “crazy produce” than graceful. And he’s seen all of that. He’s seen it all, and yet he STILL believes I’M THE MOST BEAUTIFUL WIFE IN THE UNIVERSE.
I had to investigate how this could be. First, I conducted several DIY eye tests with every app I could find on my phone. I can confirm he doesn’t have vision problems, so “he’s not really seeing me” is off the table.
Second, I can also rule out “he’s never seen anyone else naked,” since he was married before and might have, let’s say, perused a copy of Playboy—purely for the “quality writing” and “educational content,” of course.
So how does he see me as stunning when I see a wreck?
I blame society.
Not you specifically, but rather the guy in the cubicle next to you. And that seventh-grade teacher who made you feel insecure. And the sales associate at Victoria’s Secret who told you, ages ago, that they didn’t carry your size. They’re the culprits.
But here’s the truth: while you’re in the shower, wishing for a flatter tummy, your husband is just looking for a glimpse of your curves. Seriously. If you turned around and said, “Hey, let’s go right now,” do you think he’d respond, “Sure, but let’s turn off the lights so I don’t have to see those stretch marks”? Absolutely not.
Here’s the reality: while wives often think they’d be prettier if they lost ten pounds or got a tummy tuck, husbands find their wives incredibly attractive just the way they are. I’ve asked around, and it’s a common sentiment.
So who’s telling you that your body isn’t perfect?
Only people who don’t truly matter—strangers, the nagging voice in your head telling you you’re not a good enough mom or that you shouldn’t wear that dress.
And who is telling me, telling you, that your body is perfectly fine?
Only the man who shares your bed every night. The one who sees you naked and would drop everything for a quick moment with you, anytime, anywhere. Only that voice, in the morning, reminding me that I’m just right. That voice that reassures me, “You are the most beautiful wife in the universe,” as I squeeze my eyes shut and try to let him convince me.
In the grand scheme, the only opinions that matter are the ones from those who truly love you. They see the beauty that you might overlook.
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Summary
This article explores the loving perspective of a husband who sees his wife as beautiful, despite her insecurities about her body. It discusses societal pressures and the importance of self-acceptance while emphasizing that the most important opinions come from those who truly love us.