“I think it was Donald Mainstock, the great amateur squash player, who pointed out how lovely I was. Until that time, I think it was safe to say that I’d never really been aware of my own timeless brand of loveliness, but his words smote me because, of course, you see, I am lovely in a fluffy, moist kind of a way, and who would have it otherwise? I walk —  let’s be splendid about this — in a lightly scented cloud of gorgeousness that isn’t far short from being, quite simply, terrific. The secret of smooth, almost shiny, loveliness of the order of which we are discussing in this simple, frank, creamy, soft way, doesn’t reside in oils, unguents, balms, ointments, creams, astringents, milks, moisturizers, liniments, lubricants, embrocations or balsams, to be rather divine for just one noble moment; it resides, and I mean this in a pink, slightly special way, in one’s attitude of mind. To be gorgeous and high and true and fine and fluffy and moist and sticky and lovely, all you have to do is to believe that one is gorgeous and high and true and fine and fluffy and moist and sticky and lovely, and I believe it of myself, tremulously, at first, and then with mounting heat and passion because — stopping off for a second to be super again — I’m so often told it. That’s the secret, really.” –Stephen Fry

What’s the line between self-confidence and vanity? I don’t think anyone can say for sure. But here’s what I do say — own your beauty, your own unique kind of beauty. And, yes, I very much agree with Erin McKean that “You don’t owe prettiness to anyone.” If humor — as with Stephen Fry’s delightful monologue above — is the vehicle to let you appreciate yourself more, I say use it. Use what you have to feel good about yourself. We receive so many messages about what’s wrong with us, that simply acknowledging one’s self worth at this very moment can be revolutionary.