Aisha sat cross-legged on her bed, the evening light casting a soft shadow across her room. Her phone screen glowed in her hand — a window into a world of filtered perfection.
Every scroll felt like a small sting: flawless faces, sculpted bodies, perfect homes.
Her thumb paused on a picture of a woman smiling in a luxury gym outfit.
Aisha sighed.
Her inner voice whispered, “Look at her — she’s confident, beautiful… everything you’re not.”
It wasn’t envy. It was exhaustion — of constantly feeling not good enough, not slim enough, not “Instagram” enough.
But that night, something inside her broke quietly. She opened her Qur’an instead of her feed.
The first verse her eyes met was:
“We have certainly created man in the best of forms.” — Surah At-Tin (95:4)
Aisha froze.
The words felt like they were written for her.
“In the best of forms…”
Not according to beauty trends.
Not according to social media standards.
But according to Allah — the One who fashioned every curve, shade, and line with purpose.
She whispered, “Ya Allah, forgive me for looking at myself through the eyes of the world and not through Yours.”
And for the first time in a long while, tears fell not from self-pity, but from surrender.
The next morning, Aisha decided to do something different.
Instead of criticizing her body, she began thanking Allah for it.
For the hands that held her children.
For the legs that carried her through sujood and suhoor.
For the eyes that read Qur’an in the quiet of dawn.
For the heart that still beat, despite the heaviness of life.
Every thank you became a balm to her wounds.
Every moment of gratitude became a mirror that reflected something deeper — the soul of a woman loved by her Creator.
She realized her stretch marks were reminders of her strength.
Her round face was a sign of health.
Her skin tone, her shape, her hair — all of it was intentional design, not accident.
Aisha began to notice how often other women fought the same invisible war.
At weddings, she heard whispers about who had “added weight.”
At work, she saw women skipping meals to fit into expectations.
On social media, she saw filters masking what was already beautiful.
And she wondered — when did we, as women, start letting society define our worth more than Allah?
When did we forget that ‘beauty fades, but taqwa (piety) never does?’
The Prophet ﷺ said:
“Allah does not look at your appearance or your wealth, but He looks at your hearts and your deeds.” — Sahih Muslim (2564)
Those words became her new mirror.
And slowly, she began to see that true beauty shines not from the skin — but from the soul that is content with Allah’s decree.
Aisha’s healing didn’t happen overnight.
There were still days she compared, still moments of weakness.
But now, she knew where to return — to dhikr, to gratitude, to prayer.
She learned that healing from body shame is an act of ibadah (worship).
Every time she resisted the urge to compare, she was choosing tawakkul.
Every time she said “Alhamdulillah for how I am,” she was praising the One who created her.
Because loving yourself isn’t arrogance — it’s acknowledging Allah’s craftsmanship.
And that’s not vanity; that’s faith.
To the woman scrolling this right now, wondering if she’s enough —
You are.
You are enough because your worth was never tied to your waistline.
You are beautiful because your heart beats with remembrance.
You are radiant because Allah made you with love, not by mistake.
So close the app.
Take a deep breath.
And whisper, “Ya Allah, I am grateful for me.”
Because in a world obsessed with filters, you are a reminder of what’s real.
And that, dear sister, is your most beautiful feature.
Before you sleep tonight, stand before your mirror and say:
“Alhamdulillah, I am as Allah created me — beautiful, intentional, and enough.”
Then smile.
Because you finally mean it.
