Beauty is a curse. That statement may make a few people mad. I’m not trying to be vain, or brag, or anything like that. Some people seriously don’t know the struggle. I’m not saying I’m any Angelina Jolie or Kate Upton. But I have always drawn a man’s attention. I turn heads. I haven’t figured out yet if it’s looks or vibes. 

I can remember for a period of about 10 years, whenever I went to a function in town, if one certain man was there, I could feel him looking at me. I honestly don’t know how his wife never saw it, or anyone else for that matter. Well, one night we were at a party and I had quite a bit to drink, so I asked him why he was always staring at me. He said I stood out in a crowd. Now mind you, I took that as a high compliment. And for my low self-esteem issues, I’m not going to lie, it felt wonderful!

I remember one particular day I had attended a football game and was at the post-party. There were probably hundreds of people there, mingling and drinking and having a good time. I was standing in the drink line and a gentleman struck up a conversation with me. We talked for several minutes and he told me I could have any guy I wanted here. A place filled with older and young, fit, attractive men. Well, another stroke for my limp ego. 

I have had so many men over the course of my life (and women too, to be quite honest) tell me how beautiful I was.

Men 20 years older, men 20 years younger. But along with that has come this huge insecurity. I was married to a man for many years, who didn’t appreciate me. Honestly, I was just someone to fill the role of cook, maid, and sex partner. When we were first married, he would get very angry if I didn’t have sex with him. He would even use scripture against me to get what he wanted. I got to the point where I didn’t want to face his anger, so I just gave in. I let him use me. Sometimes I would even pretend I was asleep, but he didn’t care. Afterward, I would get up, go to the bathroom, and cry on the floor. I look back now and know that was abuse. I’m no longer in that marriage, but things still are challenging.

I’ve given myself some time to heal and decided to try out some dating websites. I’m sure there are some decent men on them. But the only ones I seem to attract are looking for hookups. NSA, POA, ONS. Oh yes, even the “Christian” ones. And that’s just not me. I lived like that for over 20 years, being used. With the man who was supposed to love and cherish me forever. 

Funny thing is, I’ve noticed a pattern lately; that all of these men attack at the same time! I mean, is it the moon or what? I have likened it to wolves, and I am the female in heat. I will get several text messages within a two- or three-day period from several different men. And I’m not even going out or anything, just sitting at home minding my own business. 

And I know what you might be thinking, oh, boohoo. Cry me a river. Well, here lies the problem.

When a man does show interest, I don’t trust him. I don’t know if I ever will.

What am I going to do when or if the right one comes along? And I swear they have gotten craftier. The time and effort some put into it would blow your mind. They tell you what the “good guys” used to tell you. Do I attract a certain type of man? Is there something tattooed on my forehead? I’ve joked about that for years. And I don’t dress in a way that is inappropriate. I think I dress attractive but stylish. 

I’m generally a pretty nice person. I say hi to everyone I meet. Has kindness become so rare that people confuse it for flirting? Honestly, I am thankful God made me the way I am. I like the way I look. I’ve probably put on weight thinking maybe it would discourage unwanted advances, both from my ex-husband and other men. But they honestly don’t care. I’m starting to feel like I need to change who I am, which I don’t want to do. 

My hope is I can teach my son that women are not sex objects. They have feelings. They are beautiful human beings who are to be respected and appreciated and never used. I may not be able to control other men, but I certainly have some control over the one I’m raising. 

So God Made a Mother book by Leslie Means

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A MOTHER available now!

Order Now

You should also check out our new Keepsake Companion Journal that pairs with our So God Made a Mother book!

Order Now
So God Made a Mother's Story Keepsake Journal

Her View From Home

Millions of mothers connected by love, friendship, family and faith. Join our growing community. 1,000+ writers strong. We pay too!   Find more information on how you can become a writer on Her View From Home at

Growing Slowly around the Grief of Losing Your Mom

In: Grief, Loss
Sad woman sitting on couch with folded arms

Everyone has heard about the five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. Society often assumes the stages of grief happen in order, but those who encounter grief know that’s not true. Undergoing grief can feel like riding a rollercoaster blindfolded—disorienting and chaotic. There are numerous ups, downs, and twists you wouldn’t anticipate. Grief is like an ocean. When waves come crashing, it feels like you’re being swept away. Regardless of their size, waves are always rough. Despite everything, you also get pushed forward to the shore after every wave. Sometimes, you may feel like you are drowning...

Keep Reading

The Shattering Grief of Suicide

In: Grief, Living, Loss
Sad person sitting in darkened hallway, black and white image

Navigating through my second Christmas without my dad, the weight of grief seemed even heavier this year. In fact, everything felt and looked different to me. As I unwrapped the ornaments and cards he gave me over the years, a tidal wave of madness and sadness engulfed me. I know many feel sadness and grieve during these times, but let me just say . . . suicide is a different type of grief. My vibrant, happy, physically fit dad committed suicide on April 30th, 2022. There, I said it. In the aftermath, a myriad of emotions consumed me. One perplexing...

Keep Reading

Dear Dad, Maybe You’re the Bird

In: Grief, Loss
Young girl sitting on father's lap, older color photo

Maybe you’re the bird. The one I see outside my door. The one who flies so low it seems you’re somehow weighted down. Like you’re carrying more than just yourself. Like you’re carrying a message. Just for me. Maybe you’re the rain. The sound I hear that reminds me so much of home. Of you. Of driving in your car as a little girl when you looked over and asked my opinion about everything. When you made someone so small feel so very big. RELATED: Dad Left a Legacy in Fried Green Tomatoes Maybe you’re the butterfly. The one I...

Keep Reading

I Hope You Never Know What it’s Like to Forget Who You Are

In: Grief, Living, Loss
Woman staring at camera, black-and-white photo

I write best when I’m passionate. It’s always been my release. But lately, I’ve struggled to write. I’ve struggled to find purpose in my words. It’s all been twisted and choppy, not a bit poetic or beautiful. These feelings are what the struggles of loss, parenting, work, and marriage push against. It’s finding yourself over and over again and trying to make sense of the senseless. It leaves you questioning most things and leaves you feeling broken with no idea how to put yourself or others back together. I hope you never know. I hope you never know what it’s...

Keep Reading

I Don’t Know How to Live Without My Sister, But I Must

In: Grief
Sisters smiling in posed color photo

I’ve spent a year of my life living in a haze. Holding my breath, afraid to exhale. Focusing on staying in this frozen moment where there is no reality. I pressed the pause button. Pumped the brakes. I’ll stay right here and wait for my life, life as I knew it, life as I loved it, to come back around. Where there is no future to mourn, thinking about the way it should have been and no torturous past to remember, recalling the horror of that day. The special occasions that will come are now outlined in sadness. Wait, she’s...

Keep Reading

6 Ways to Be a Friend to Someone Grieving

In: Friendship, Grief, Loss
Friends hugging

Grief can truly be such a lonely experience after you lose a loved one. The loneliness isn’t necessarily because you don’t have anyone around you. It’s because only you had your relationship with the person who died, and it’s hard to find anyone to replace that. I have first-hand experience. My mom died recently and unexpectedly at the age of 62 and I at the age of 34, and it single-handedly has been one of the most painful experiences of my life. However, having support from family and friends will help you navigate this difficult time. Without it, the loneliness...

Keep Reading

These Final Gifts from My Mom Are Hard to Let Go

In: Grief, Loss
Little girls boots with worn toes, color photo

My daughter wobbled toward me in silver, square-toed go-go boots, one heel dislodged and flopping against our hallway’s faux wood floor. On her opposite foot, a striped sock peaked curiously through the growing toe hole. “Mama,” she said. Her tiny voice raised another octave, “My shoe!” I sighed, then sat on the floor. Waves of grief washed over me as I contemplated what kind of glue might capably reconstruct the shoe’s sole. Elmer’s glue? Textile glue? Maybe Krazy Glue? I knew the boots should just go into the bin. And yet, they—along with a vibrant, overbearing cat dress that would...

Keep Reading

A Daughter Is Never Ready To Let Her Dad Go

In: Grief, Loss
Grown daughter hugging older man

I wasn’t ready to let you go. When I was a little girl, one of my greatest fears was that something would happen to my parents. If they had to go somewhere, I would nervously follow their route in my mind, mentally noting where they probably were and when they should be back home. If they hadn’t returned by the time I thought they should, my imagination would get the best of me as I pictured a thousand things that could have happened. But the day I sat having a late breakfast at my kitchen table and saw an ambulance...

Keep Reading

Memories of Mom Are Everywhere

In: Grief, Motherhood
Family campsite with bikes, tents, and totes, color photo

Two weeks after my daughter was born, my dad drove from Pennsylvania to our home in Florida to stay with me for the week. I was nursing my daughter on the couch when my dad drug in four humongous plastic storage bins and staged them next to the Pack ‘N Play in the living room. The bins were full of my baby clothes, baby shower cards, a silver spoon, plastic and probably lead-infused rattles, and two cellophane balloons neatly folded. A time capsule of my babyhood. I thought of my mom’s hands being the last to touch these items. Had...

Keep Reading

Don’t Forget the Heartbroken Mothers

In: Grief, Loss, Motherhood
Woman sad sitting on couch

The loss I recently experienced hit differently than others I’ve experienced. I thought that with three kids already in tow, it wouldn’t ache quite this bad. But it has. I don’t know if it’s because I was further along or because my entire household was over-the-top giddy and excited for this precious new life to enter the world. Perhaps it was the trauma of how everything happened or because I actually gave birth to him and held him. RELATED: We Lost Our Baby at 17 Weeks Pregnant Attending my first appointment to confirm the loss was brutal. I was surrounded...

Keep Reading