I cannot remember being told I was pretty when I was growing up. People frequently commented on how beautiful my sister was, but no one ever told me I was pretty. I wasn't even the smart one; that was my older brother. Or the athletic one; that was my younger brother. I was the bossy one. I was the dependable one. I was the messy one.
After I grew up, still no one ever told me I was pretty. I finally broke down and asked my husband if he thought I was pretty, after 14 years of marriage. I'm pretty sure he was flabbergasted. He just never realized I didn't know he thought I was pretty.
Then, one day, I realized that I'm not pretty. I'm freaking beautiful.
All my parts are beautiful. But I am the sum of more than my parts. I am even more beautiful than my parts put together. Because I am a woman who knows herself to be beautiful. A beauty that is not dependent on physical attributes, or someone else's idea of beauty. I will always be beautiful.
Tell your daughter she's beautiful. Because she is. So beautiful.