It’s time for a classic Carly Word Vomit…can’t promise it’ll make sense, but at least it soothes ma soul (much like that old time rock ‘n roll).
DISCLAIMER: in this post I talk about learning to love my appearance. I understand that it’s what’s inside that matters. I work every day to make myself a better person. This post is solely about accepting my looks; even though I didn’t wake up like dis, what I did wake up like is BEAUTIFUL. Here we goooooooo….
I have a vague recollection of when I started being self-conscious about my appearance. Before university, I never really had a reason to notice my imperfections. I was thin, tanned from summers at camp, had clear skin, and my hair was naturally the lightest of blonde (luckily enough, that last one remains true). It wasn’t until I went to university that I started to really notice- and care about- my flaws. Suddenly I gained weight, my skin started to have more than the occasional pimple, and I started seeing my structural imperfections.
I hate my profile; my nose and chin are too big. My cheeks are too soft and round. My boobs are too small. I have a sway back; my posture sucks. I have no torso and no waist. The bags under my eyes are ugly.
I’m not tall enough to be tall, not short enough to be petite, not skinny enough to be thin, not curvy enough to be sexy. I am average at best.
At first it was just subtle thoughts when I looked in the mirror. I was mildly aware of what made me less than perfect. Over the years, I started to notice and care more and more. Many of my friends were (and are) beautiful. Their hair was better than mine, they were skinnier than me, they were naturally gorgeous without makeup. It’s not even like I was obsessed with celebrities and wanted to be perfect like them…my insecurities didn’t and still don’t stem from celebrity ideals. My lack of confidence in my appearance comes from my own internal image of perfection. I see beauty as effortless; those girls that have beautiful hair and clear skin and don’t need anything other than a bit of mascara to make them look like WOW.
Understand that it’s not like I started hating myself and thinking I’m hideous. It’s not that. There are things that I continue to love about myself and wouldn’t trade for the world; my blonde hair, my freckles, my long legs. I simply started feeling inferior; average.
I found this photo the other day from my very first orthodontist appointment when I was 7 years old (check that underbite y’all…thank you mom for paying for 8 years of orthodontics). I noticed that my lil baby nose was- in my words- “SO CUTE AND LITTLE.” I sent it to a few of my friends joking around, saying “did I break my nose and no one told me? Why did my nose get so big!” It’s all fun and games when I joke about my nose, but the fact that I care so much about the change in my nose shape is indicative of where my mental state is regarding my appearance.
Lately I’ve realized that I’m (obviously) never going to achieve perfection. I don’t believe I ever thought I would…I don’t have a delusional perception that perfection can be attained. I think I’ve always had a subconscious feeling that I’d wake up one day and the things I dislike about myself will no longer be an issue. Before I come off as preachy, declaring LOVE YOURSELF BECAUSE IMPERFECT IS PERFECT!, listen up. Perfect isn’t real, and it’s just as difficult to accept the fact that there is no perfect. This is where I realize that it’s all about perspective.
Apart from major surgery, my nose isn’t getting any smaller and my boobs aren’t getting any bigger. Unless my genetics suddenly warp, the bags under my eyes aren’t going anywhere. Aside from stopping eating all together (as if THAT could ever happen), I’m not getting any thinner. The things I don’t like about myself aren’t changing, but my way of thinking will.
I don’t really know how to end this post. My mindset isn’t completely renewed and I don’t wholly accept myself. I still look in the mirror and see all of the things I can’t change; the difference I’m trying to make is seeing those flaws as part of me. Realistically, I’m sure (hopefully) someone somewhere looks at me and sees an attribute that they admire. There is so much about myself that I can LOVE; as long as I maintain a healthy body and do what I’m passionate about, I’m being the best me I can be, and that is something to smile about.