My hands are small--I can reach maybe two notes outside an octave on a piano, at most; and cannot pick up a basketball one-handed. If I do put on lotion, it isn't for looks; it's only for comfort, when the skin is getting so dry that it starts stretching and stinging at the knuckles. (It might also be for scent, since of course I own a bunch of fragrance-drenched lotions.) The cuticles haven't been treated in any way, shape, or form for months. I don't paint my nails or bite them, but I seldom trim them either; so they're uneven from one finger to another, each getting torn off and smoothed down as it gets to be too long, or happens to break. I've got a couple fading spots on my knuckles where there were scabs from knocking against something or other. You can see blue veins through the backs of my hands. The only decoration is my wedding ring, which is indeed gorgeous, but not ostentatious. I practically never get the "Whoa! Check out those diamonds!" comments some women do on their rings. I love it, and that's all I care about.
I am perfectly contented with my hands. I like how they look. I like that they type fast. I like that they can play piano, at least on a good day when they're warmed up.
Now I just need to reach this level of Zen with my face. I can still take care of it--as with my hands, I should keep it clean, moisturized, and decorated as I see fit (here we're talking lipstick instead of rings)--but zeroing in on all its imperfections is hardly doing me any good. No, I don't look like a model most of the time. Know what? Neither do models. They're Photoshopped. I should appreciate all the little quirky things about my face that make me an individual.
Choose a part of yourself that you never trouble yourself over. Admire it. Breed this admiration, and transfer it to other parts. Relax.
(Thank you for attending this self-help session. I take cash, checks, and PayPal.)