Szép vagyok? – Női szépség a tükör túloldalán

New on the blog – English version 

“Am I Beautiful? – Womanly Beauty Beyond the Mirror”
We women often wonder: What makes us beautiful?
Is it how we look — or how we feel?
Is beauty something we wear — or something we become?

This deeply personal article invites you on an inner journey.
Through reflections, memories, and quiet realizations, we explore what beauty means to us —
as girls, as women, as mothers, as souls.

Take five minutes.
Hold up a mirror.
And by the end, maybe you’ll whisper it too:

“Yes. I am beautiful.”

We women love to reinvent ourselves from time to time.
We transform, reorganize, blossom. We do it willingly — driven by some deep inner pull. A force that whispers: learn something new, seek a challenge, begin again.
A new chapter in the book of our lives.

Sometimes it’s a conscious choice.
Other times, it’s because we’ve been hurt — cheated on, abandoned, betrayed — and then comes that familiar fire:
“Well, now I’ll show them!”
And we start investing in ourselves: new hair, new body, new wardrobe, new mindset.

And yes, there are times when we don’t even choose — life forces the change upon us.
A serious illness. A painful turning point.

This article comes from a very simple place:
I myself am right in the middle of one of these transformations.
It’s real. It’s personal. It’s deep.
And though I’m not ready to talk about the reasons just yet, I will. Eventually. Because every story deserves to be whole.

Let’s begin with a question:
What does it mean, for us as women, to be beautiful?
It’s a deeply personal question — and yet it stirs the same longings, dilemmas, and emotions in many of us.

So I invite you now on an inner journey.
Let this article be a gentle invitation, a quiet mirror.
Let’s reflect together on this:

What does it really mean to be a beautiful woman?
And perhaps, by the end of this piece, we’ll hold up a mirror and finally be able to say:

YES. I AM BEAUTIFUL.

A few years ago, I shared a short post here on the blog called “Me, the Mirror, and My Man.”
(If you haven’t read it yet, I really encourage you to — and that’s saying something, because I’m usually quite critical of my own writing. But that one… I still believe it’s good.)

In it, I wrote about a day when my husband gently sent me into the bathroom and said:

“Do me a favor. Strip down completely, stand in front of the mirror, and instead of searching for what you dislike — look for what you can admire. From your toes to the top of your head, find the parts you think are beautiful. The ones you’re at peace with. The ones you can truly appreciate.”

I laughed. Rolled my eyes.
“What’s the point of this?” I grumbled.

But then he pleaded again:

“Please. Just try it.”

So I did. Like a good little girl, I walked into the bathroom…
and I just stood there. Looking.

Looking.
And looking.
At myself. At my reflection. Mostly my face, as if trying to memorize every tiny detail, every freckle, every line.

It only lasted a few seconds — but it felt like forever.

I couldn’t handle the confrontation.
I couldn’t bear to face what I saw in the mirror.
Memories stirred. Emotions twisted. For a moment, I saw my grandmother flash before me — her stance, her calves, so much like mine.
In my face, I caught glimpses of my mother.
And then I saw my smile… no longer what it used to be.
After a dental surgery, my face had changed.
And I still hadn’t quite made peace with it.

I started crying.
Tension, sadness, frustration — it all overwhelmed me.
So I stopped.
I ended the “Admire Your Reflection” challenge right there.

And you know what?
I couldn’t find a single beautiful thing about myself.

But what does that even mean?
What is beauty — for you?
As a woman, as a mother, as a wife, as a friend… as a human being?

Somewhere deep inside, we all carry an image.
Sometimes it’s a teenage ideal.
Sometimes it’s shaped by advertising.
A neighbor.
An influencer’s flawless selfie.
A magazine cover.

But what if beauty isn’t something that can be seen on us —
but rather something we can feel within ourselves?

Outer beauty – expectation or joy?

Many of us were raised with the idea that beauty is almost a duty.
A beautiful woman is successful.
A beautiful woman gets attention.
A beautiful woman is… more.
At least, that’s what magazine covers, ads, and even our grandmothers’ gentle but firm advice kept telling us:

“A woman should always be well-groomed.”

I’ll never forget Diana, from my very first workplace.
She once told me about her grandmother, who came from an aristocratic family where etiquette was everything.
When Diana stayed with her as a child, her grandmother taught her how to behave, how to eat — and even how to walk.
She’d balance dictionaries on her head and make her practice walking gracefully without letting them fall.
It might sound amusing now, but to a little girl, it wasn’t so funny.
Still… Diana grew up walking with such poise that women at work often asked her where she had learned to move like that.

So yes — we try.
With creams, with hairstyles, with colors and cuts.
We make an effort to be well-dressed, to look nice.

But deep down, the real question whispers:
What if today isn’t a beautiful day?
What if it’s a day of exhaustion, of tears, of sweatpants?

Does that make us less of a woman?
Less valuable?

Because let’s be honest: it’s not the makeup.
It’s not the weight.
It’s not the curves — or even the wrinkles — that define us.

What matters is whether we can look at ourselves with kindness, even on the days when we’re not at our best.

Because real beauty doesn’t shout.
It’s quiet.

It’s in the way we move.
The way we smile.
The way we are.

And yes, while men might enjoy looking at a perfect body — enhanced curves, tight dresses, high heels —
when it comes to choosing a partner, what they truly seek is the woman who glows.
The one with presence.
With strength.
With soul.

The kind of woman who isn’t just nice to look at.
She’s good to be with.

And that, my dear, is a different kind of beauty altogether.

Embracing Inner Beauty – When You Shine Just As You Are

There are moments when you completely forget how you look.

Because you’re laughing — with your whole heart.
Because you’re immersed in a conversation, a creation, or simply watching the curtain flutter in the spring breeze.
And then someone looks at you and says:

“You look so beautiful right now.”

And you’re surprised.
Because you’re not dressed up.
You didn’t put on makeup.
You’re just… you.

Inner beauty doesn’t seek approval.
It doesn’t beg for validation.
It’s not built from trends — but from experience, from inner work, from love.

This kind of beauty starts in the soul —
and somehow shines through your eyes, your gestures, your presence.

It’s not always loud.
But when it touches someone… it’s unforgettable.

True beauty is born in us when:
– we no longer want to be anyone else, only our full, true selves,
– we care for ourselves — not to impress others, but because we know we matter,
– we allow ourselves to make mistakes, to be tired, to be human — and still lovable.

This is when womanly beauty becomes a state of being, not a goal.
It becomes a feeling.
An inner light that glows even when our hair’s a mess —
and shines especially when our eyes sparkle after a day well lived.

Beauty – As We See Ourselves

One of the biggest challenges in life isn’t what others think of us —
it’s what we think of ourselves.

Sure, we’re surrounded by mirrors —
in the bathroom, the fitting room, the selfie camera on our phones —
but the sharpest, most unforgiving mirror?
That one’s inside.

We often look too harshly.
We see the dark circles.
The extra weight.
The stray hairs that refuse to behave.

But we rarely notice what truly matters:
The warmth we bring into a room.
The attention we offer.
The care we give.
And the strength with which we keep standing — again and again.

We women often struggle to say it out loud:
“I am beautiful.”

As if it would make us arrogant.
But when we’re truly at peace with ourselves, we don’t even have to say it.

It’s in our posture.
In our smile.
In the way we enter a room —
not to impress,
but with quiet confidence.

And this kind of beauty changes with us.

In our twenties, maybe it’s the smoothness of our skin that we value.
In our thirties, it becomes more about knowing who we are.
And by our forties and fifties, we finally understand:

The most beautiful women are the ones who are at peace with themselves.
The ones who no longer want to be someone else —
just their truest, fullest self.

How Beauty Travels With Us Through Life

Our relationship with beauty isn’t just emotional or cultural —
it’s a lifelong journey.

A story that others begin writing for us,
and then slowly, gradually…
we take the pen into our own hands.

As little girls, we don’t think about beauty — we simply feel it.
If someone loves us, hugs us, smiles at us —
we know we’re beautiful.

The blue hair clip.
The twirly skirt.
The red nail polish on Mom’s hand.
These were all magic.
Back then, beauty was joy.
Connection.
Play.

In that earlier blog story I mentioned, the one about the mirror —
my husband saw what the mirror stirred in me.
He didn’t comfort me with empty words.
Instead, he asked:

“Did you have a twirly skirt when you were little?
Did you spin in it?”

Of course I did. I loved spinning, dancing in it.

“And how did you feel?” he asked.

Happy. Magical.
I felt beautiful. I laughed. I was radiant.

Then he said:

“Now go back to that mirror.
You don’t even have to undress.
Just imagine that little girl — the one who’s magical, beautiful, joyful, spinning and spinning…
and while holding that feeling, just look.
Just stand there, calmly… and look into the mirror.
Look at the amazing woman you are now.”

The woman who’s an incredible wife. A mother.
The woman who’s sexy, stylish, fit, creative.

Don’t look at freckles.
Or changed skin.
Or parts you’ve judged as too thin or too thick.

See the miracle. In you.

Be grateful that you’re healthy.
That you can run 10 kilometers.
That you create wonders in the kitchen.
That after 23 years — you still make me happy.

See this woman.
Love the woman who lives inside you.

I spent about 15 minutes in that bathroom.
And when I came out, my eyes weren’t filled with sadness —
but with gratitude.
With love.
For him.
For helping me see myself — the way I hadn’t in a long, long time.

That day, a woman was born in me again.
A miracle. A joy.

I once read something in a women’s magazine that I copied down because it struck me so deeply. It said:

“Womanhood begins when a father calls his little girl My Fairy, My Golden Star.
He lets her spin before him in her pink tutu.
He praises her, calls her beautiful, maybe even helps her pick out sparkly lip gloss or nail polish.
He encourages her, lifts her up.
And when the little girl starts to show signs of growing up — still cuddly, but already becoming a young lady —
he stays by her side.
He listens.
Even when the hormones make her moody,
when she hates her face, her shoe size, her everything.
Dad is still there.
Offering a compliment.
A steady, loving reflection.”

And if that’s what it takes for a girl to grow into a woman,
then no wonder, I thought — no wonder it took me so much effort to become one.

When Something Breaks

As teenagers, something shifts.
Comparison creeps in.
The mirror becomes a battlefield.
Classmates’ stares feel like judgement.
We begin to understand that there’s “cool” and “lame,” “pretty” and “nothing special.”

And if we’re not in the “pretty” group… it hurts.
Deeply.

This is when the long struggle begins —
a fight in which we sometimes lose ourselves.
Even though we’re still unfolding, still becoming.

And that very becoming is what makes us most beautiful —
but we can’t see it yet.

As young adults, beauty starts to take shape.
In our style, our bodies, our presence.

But with that, a persistent question arrives:
Am I enough?
Am I pretty enough?
Thin enough?
Feminine enough?

At that age, beauty still depends on outer approval —
a romantic partner, a compliment, a photo that turns out just right.

And Then, Motherhood Changes Everything

The body changes.
The priorities shift.
The mornings, the nights — they blend into one.

And so does beauty.

It’s no longer about being flawless.
It becomes about being enough —
for your child,
for your family,
for yourself.

This kind of beauty is often tired — but deep.
Gentle — but strong.
It radiates a different kind of glow:
the glow of care,
of perseverance,
of love.

After Fifty – When Beauty Comes Home

After fifty, beauty begins to come home.
Or at least it starts its journey back.

We finally begin to believe:
It’s not about a wrinkle-free face —
it’s about the woman behind the face.

By now, we’ve experienced pain, joy, loss, laughter.
And we know: beauty isn’t forever —
but presence can be.

We can be more beautiful than ever —
on the inside.
And yes, even on the outside —
because this kind of radiance can’t be bottled in a cream.

Final Words – or Perhaps, a New Question

Maybe beauty isn’t a state at all.
Maybe it’s a process.
A learning.
A relationship with ourselves.

And if we look at it that way —
then we’re all born beautiful.
We just forget it along the way.

But if we start remembering…
we begin to look differently in the mirror.
And differently at each other, too.

But has beauty always meant this?

What made a woman beautiful a hundred years ago?
Or thirty years ago?
What ideals shaped our grandmothers?
Our mothers?
And us?

That’s what the next article will explore:

“The Many Faces of Female Beauty – How Ideals Have Changed, and What We Can Still Keep from Them”