When you get caught up in material goods and surface beauty， and when you let other people determine your value， you give up too much of yourself and risk letting your blessings go to waste. After watching my DVD， Kristy wrote to me： “You made me realize what’s the point of having someone love you if you don‘t love yourself？ I saw you over a year ago and again today. I realized I need to tell you what you have done for me. You have taught me to stand up for myself， love myself for who I am， and just live my life the way I want to live it . . . Oh by the way， now that I have changed the way I feel about myself， my boyfriend has noticed a big difference in me， and he is grateful to you. He was always scared for me， afraid I might do something stupid one day and kill myself. But now I have changed， and my life is so much happier！”
SELF-ACCEPTANCE
My message resonated with Kristy because I’ve been where she was. When I was seven years old， I went home after one particularly cruel day of rejection and disappointment and spent hours staring into my mirror. Most teens worry about pimples and keeping their hair under control. I had all of the usual challenges on top of the missing limbs.
I really am just a weird-looking bloke， I thought.
Grief overwhelmed me. I allowed myself to wallow in self-pity for a good five minutes. But then a voice from deep inside said， Okay， like your mum says， you‘re missing some bits and pieces， but you have some good features too.
I thought， Name one. I dare you. Just find one thing， and that will be enough.
I studied my reflected image a little longer and finally came up with something positive.
I have nice eyes. Girls have told me I have nice eyes. I have that if nothing else！ And no one can change that about me. My eyes will never change， so I will always have beautiful eyes.
When you feel your spirits tumbling because you’ve been hurt or bullied or disparaged， go to the mirror and find one feature you love about yourself. It doesn‘t have to be a physical characteristic. It can be a talent， a trait， or something else that makes you feel good about yourself. Dwell on that special something for a while. Be grateful for it， and know that your beauty and value come from the unique person you were made to be.
Don’t cop out and claim， “There is nothing special about me.” We are so hard on ourselves， especially when we compare ourselves unfavorably to others. I see this especially when I talk to teenagers. So many of them struggle with feelings of inadequacy， or the sense that no one will ever love them.
That is why I make it a point to tell them， “I love you just as you are. You are beautiful to me.”
Those are simple words from me， a strange-looking stranger. I offer them in most of my speaking engagements for schools and youth groups. My simple words always seem to strike a chord. In fact， the response is usually quite remarkable.
The typical reaction begins with a muffled whimper or a smothered sniffle. I‘ll look out to see a girl with her head down or a boy with his hands over his face. Then the powerful emotions will sweep through the room like a contagion. Tears will flow down young cheeks. Shoulders shake from stifled sobs. Girls huddle together. Boys leave the room to hide their faces.
The first few times this happened， I was taken aback. What’s going on？ Why are they responding so strongly？
My audience members themselves have answered those questions. After my speeches， young and old， they line up to hug me and share their feelings. Again， the response is overwhelming. Often they line up for hours.
Now， I‘m a handsome enough bloke， but people don’t stand in lines for hours to hug me because I‘m so dashing. What really seems to be drawing them is that I unleash a pair of powerful forces that so many are lacking in their lives： unconditional love and self-acceptance.
Kristy’s is just one of many e-mails and letters I receive and personal conversations I have with people young and old who‘ve thought about taking their lives because they’ve lost their ability to love themselves. When you are hurt， you build walls to keep from being hurt again， but you can‘t build an interior wall around your heart. And if you will only love yourself as you are， for all your natural beauty inside and out， others will be drawn to you， and they will see your beauty too.
LOVE YOURSELF ENOUGH TO LAUGH AT YOURSELF
Our friends and loved ones can tell us one hundred times a day that we are beautiful and we are loved and that the hard times will pass， but too often we shrug off the supportive words and hang on to the hurt. I did that for the longest time. My parents would spend weeks trying to undo the damage done by one or two kids who teased me on the playground. But finally when someone my own age reached out， I was transformed. When one girl in my class told me that I was “looking good，” I walked on a cloud for a month.
Of course， a short time later， I woke up at thirteen years old with a pimple on my nose. It was not pretty. It was a huge， ripe tomato of a pimple.
“Look at this， it’s crazy，” I told my mum.
“Don‘t scratch it，” my mum said.
What would I scratch it with？ I wondered.
I went to school feeling like the ugliest dude on the planet. Every time I passed a classroom and saw my reflection in the windows， I wanted to run and hide. Other kids stared at it. I kept hoping it would go away， but two days later it was even bigger， the largest and reddest pimple in the universe. I began to think it would one day outweigh the rest of me.
The monstrous deformity would not go away！ My humongous zit was still there eight months later. I felt like Rudolph the Red-Nosed Australian. Finally my mum took me to a dermatologist. I told him I wanted the pimple removed even if it took major surgery. He examined it with a huge magnifying glass—as if he couldn’t see it—and said， “Hmmmm. It‘s not a pimple.”
Whatever it is， I thought， let’s just get rid of it， shall we？
“It‘s a swollen oil gland，” he said. “I can cut it off or burn it off， but either way it will leave you with a scar bigger than this little red dot.”
Little red dot？
“It’s so big I can‘t see around it，” I protested.
“Would you rather be scarred for life？” he asked.