And sometimes they just give me a look — one that says, “Well, here she is again in a skirt and with earrings.”
And you know what? It hurts. A lot.

I don’t dress up to shock anyone. And I certainly don’t want to look provocative. I just like feeling like a woman. It’s my form of respect for myself, for the day I’ve been given, and even for the people I meet. After all, after all, we see each other first and foremost with our eyes.

I’m a Catholic. And I know how paradoxical this may sound to some: “Faith and beauty? Isn’t that about modesty, simplicity, long skirts, like grandma’s?”
But I believe that true modesty is not about being a gray mouse, but about carrying beauty with respect. Beauty as a gift, not as a challenge.

I once heard an elderly parishioner say in church: "You are like a candle. You shine and warm." Then I almost burst into tears. Because usually I hear something completely different: that my dresses are "too much", that my heels are inappropriate, that my lipstick is too red.
But this is not about being cheeky. This is about my soul, which rejoices in every detail - an earring laid out on the dressing table in the morning, neatly manicured hands, the smell of perfume that smells like spring in Italy.

Why is it that when a man wears a good suit and stylish shoes, he is praised? And when a woman puts on a dress, she is reproached for being "inappropriate"?
I don't want to offend anyone, really. It's just that sometimes it gets very lonely in this fight for the right to be yourself. I don't have anything to prove to anyone - I just live.

Sometimes I wonder if someone thinks that if a woman is dressed beautifully, it means she wants something?

But all I want is to be myself. To be beautiful not for, but because. Because God created this world beautiful, and I believe that He doesn't mind if we add a little of our own taste to this beauty.

I remember my grandmother. She always went out even for bread with lipstick. She sat in the shop near her house in an ironed apron and with clean hands. They called her "smart", but there was more love in this word than reproach. She said: "You are God's daughter. And the daughters of the King do not walk sloppily."
How can I carry this memory, if not through my appearance?

I am not perfect. Sometimes I feel insecure. There are days when, despite everything, I put on a simple gray sweater and almost merge with the walls of the office. And on those days, I feel the light inside me go out. And then I put on my favorite floral dress again - and come back to life.

Maybe it sounds stupid to someone. Maybe someone will say: “It's just clothes.” But for me it is a language. My personal language of love for myself, for life, for God. After all, even the lilies of the field He dresses in the best.

So yes - I love to look beautiful. And it hurts me when this is equated with superficiality. Or with the desire to “attract someone.” But this is just who I am. Quiet. Believing. With earrings and bright lipstick. I do not play with images. I am me.
And if you have read this far - thank you. Maybe you are the one who will understand that beauty and faith do not argue with each other. They can walk side by side. And even hold hands.