I like my smile.

In the words, “I like my smile,” spoken by the actress Ileana D’Cruz, we hear not merely the soft murmur of self-acceptance, but the thunder of a soul reclaiming its own worth. The utterance seems simple, almost childlike, yet beneath its surface lies the strength of a warrior who has walked through shadows and chosen to love the light that still burns within. For in the ancient wisdom of the ages, to like one’s own smile is not vanity, but victory—a declaration that the storms of shame, doubt, and sorrow have not conquered the heart.

This phrase is a seed of self-love, born from the fertile soil of struggle. D’Cruz, known for her openness about battles with body image and depression, has stood as one who faced the tyranny of inner voices that told her she was not enough. To say aloud, “I like my smile,” is no idle phrase—it is an act of rebellion against despair. It is akin to raising a banner after the battlefield has been cleared, reminding the world that one’s spirit still stands tall, unbroken, radiant.

Consider, beloved reader, the tale of Abraham Lincoln, who in his youth was described as awkward, lanky, even unattractive by the standards of his day. Yet he carried with him a quiet warmth that drew others to him, a certain gentleness in his smile that comforted friend and stranger alike. That smile, unassuming yet true, became one of the most disarming forces in American history. Lincoln’s greatness did not spring from beauty or perfection, but from authenticity—just as D’Cruz’s words remind us that our true strength lies in cherishing the unique flame that flickers within us, no matter how the world might judge its shape.

There is power in a smile, for it is both shield and sword. A shield, because it guards the heart from bitterness, reminding us that joy is still possible. A sword, because it cuts through darkness, disarming those who would harm us with cruelty or scorn. When D’Cruz claims her smile as something she loves, she models for us an ancient truth: the path to wholeness begins when we choose to honor even the smallest part of ourselves with tenderness.

The ancients would say, “He who conquers others is strong, but he who conquers himself is mighty.” To say “I like my smile” is to achieve such a conquest. It is to stand before the mirror of life, see both flaws and beauty, and yet choose to bless oneself with kindness. This is no small task, for the world is filled with voices that whisper otherwise. But wisdom is found in the stillness between those whispers, where the heart dares to affirm its own worth.

The lesson here is clear: do not wait for the world to approve of you before you find delight in yourself. Celebrate your smile, your walk, your voice, your quirks—for these are the threads with which your destiny is woven. A person who likes their smile is one who has tasted the nectar of self-acceptance, and from such nectar flows resilience, courage, and peace.

To practice this teaching, begin with small acts. Each morning, stand before your reflection and name one thing you cherish about yourself. It need not be grand—a dimple, a laugh, a way of listening, a strength of patience. Whisper it as a vow, repeat it until it feels true. With time, you will discover that the act of liking your smile is a gateway to loving the whole of your being. And once you walk through that gateway, the world cannot bind you with chains of doubt again.

So remember, child of tomorrow: when you say, “I like my smile,” you are not speaking of lips alone. You are speaking of the soul’s radiance, of the divine spark within that cannot be extinguished. Guard it. Nurture it. And let it shine, that others too may remember their own hidden light.