Thursday, September 30, 2010
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Wednesday September 1, 2010
(I day dream of January when I'll be able to have blacker eyelashes and redder lips. But I'm scared I will still cry. And I will still not accept myself.)
I have four months left and what have I learned? I have learned that I can survive without makeup. And that everyone is prettier when they smile. I have learned that. Even myself. I can get away without wearing makeup, when I smile. It surprises me really. And I've learned how sadly insecure so many other girls remain. I would in no way call myself confident in appearance just yet, but I have come to some contentment. Not wearing makeup is not the end of the world. It's not even that terrible. And more often than we think, other people aren't thinking about what our faces look like. In fact, more often then we think, other people still think we're beautiful. I have learned that. "I honestly can't even tell you're not wearing make up." Which in my head, I could go the negative route and think "Well, then, obviously, I'm just ugly no matter what." But that's not true. What is true is what people (that love me) have said. No, what God has said. What He has made. And what they are saying, what He is saying, what He has made, is beauty. They mean compliments in telling me they couldn't tell. They couldn't tell because they don't care. And let me explain. In my saying they don't care, I mean...they don't care what I look like. Really. They can compliment me when I look nicer or cuter or prettier, but if I don't, will they stop loving me? Will they stop caring for me? Not at all. Not even an ounce. I like dressing up. I like playing with clothes and make up. And I have a good chunk of friends who like the same thing. And they like having that in common with me. But I am confident that if I completely stopped dressing up, doing my hair, and looking pretty, that they would still love me. It would not be a huge loss on the scale of who I am. Because I am not my clothes. I am not my hair. I am not my face. I am my heart and soul. And that is what they really love.
And that is what I am really learning.
And that is what I really want the whole world to learn.
One of the most beautiful girls I know broke my heart this weekend when she had just gotten out of the shower, cleaned her face, and put on her PJs. She was waiting for her friend to come over. A female friend. Her friend called and said her and her guy friend were on their way. As soon as my friend got off the phone she said "Oh no. I didn't know she was bringing a guy, ah!" And she immediately changed into jeans and put makeup on her face. "Why?!" I said and thought both very loudly. I could not understand one bit. And realized, "This has changed me." Eight months ago, I would have done just the same thing. Eight months ago, I DID do the same thing. I was over at my guy friends apt and I went home to take a shower. I got out. Got dressed. Put my hair in 70s style braids and applied makeup to my face. Only to spend, maybe twenty more minutes with them? Eight months ago, I could not leave the house without covering my blemishes, brightening up my cheeks, thickening my lashes. And now, I go spend every day with a clean face, completely vulnerable, often sad about it, but I do it. And I smile more. Because smiling is my beauty. And I used to hardly ever smile. Because I just didn't feel like it. And the makeup helped.
But now I smile.
And I am realizing, I am learning. I have changed. Though not entirely, I have.
And that is beautiful.
I have four months left and what have I learned? I have learned that I can survive without makeup. And that everyone is prettier when they smile. I have learned that. Even myself. I can get away without wearing makeup, when I smile. It surprises me really. And I've learned how sadly insecure so many other girls remain. I would in no way call myself confident in appearance just yet, but I have come to some contentment. Not wearing makeup is not the end of the world. It's not even that terrible. And more often than we think, other people aren't thinking about what our faces look like. In fact, more often then we think, other people still think we're beautiful. I have learned that. "I honestly can't even tell you're not wearing make up." Which in my head, I could go the negative route and think "Well, then, obviously, I'm just ugly no matter what." But that's not true. What is true is what people (that love me) have said. No, what God has said. What He has made. And what they are saying, what He is saying, what He has made, is beauty. They mean compliments in telling me they couldn't tell. They couldn't tell because they don't care. And let me explain. In my saying they don't care, I mean...they don't care what I look like. Really. They can compliment me when I look nicer or cuter or prettier, but if I don't, will they stop loving me? Will they stop caring for me? Not at all. Not even an ounce. I like dressing up. I like playing with clothes and make up. And I have a good chunk of friends who like the same thing. And they like having that in common with me. But I am confident that if I completely stopped dressing up, doing my hair, and looking pretty, that they would still love me. It would not be a huge loss on the scale of who I am. Because I am not my clothes. I am not my hair. I am not my face. I am my heart and soul. And that is what they really love.
And that is what I am really learning.
And that is what I really want the whole world to learn.
One of the most beautiful girls I know broke my heart this weekend when she had just gotten out of the shower, cleaned her face, and put on her PJs. She was waiting for her friend to come over. A female friend. Her friend called and said her and her guy friend were on their way. As soon as my friend got off the phone she said "Oh no. I didn't know she was bringing a guy, ah!" And she immediately changed into jeans and put makeup on her face. "Why?!" I said and thought both very loudly. I could not understand one bit. And realized, "This has changed me." Eight months ago, I would have done just the same thing. Eight months ago, I DID do the same thing. I was over at my guy friends apt and I went home to take a shower. I got out. Got dressed. Put my hair in 70s style braids and applied makeup to my face. Only to spend, maybe twenty more minutes with them? Eight months ago, I could not leave the house without covering my blemishes, brightening up my cheeks, thickening my lashes. And now, I go spend every day with a clean face, completely vulnerable, often sad about it, but I do it. And I smile more. Because smiling is my beauty. And I used to hardly ever smile. Because I just didn't feel like it. And the makeup helped.
But now I smile.
And I am realizing, I am learning. I have changed. Though not entirely, I have.
And that is beautiful.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
August 15, 2010
An Ugly Year. A very very very Ugly Year. I am so over this. I am depressed and disgusted with myself. I am SO over this.
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
July 20, 2010
Today, I wore mascara. For all but three minutes, it sat there, on my eyelashes, surrounded by a naked face. I was getting ready to go out. I was tired of searching through an endless pile of patterns and cut cloth just to be disappointed by how it looked on me. I was bored with playing a never ending game of bobby pin or no bobby pin? Braid or no braid? Ponytail...or no ponytail?
I walked into my sisters room, sat down next to her predictable mess of face painting products and grabbed the little pink and green bottle I was once so familiar with. First, I curled them (the lashes). Then, I painted them. And I felt...nothing, really. As I sat there, cross legged, starring into a dirty mirror, performing a ritual I had not performed for seven months now, I felt, nothing. No change, no saddness, no joy. It was as if, it was nothing. I wasn't shocked and shamed at what I had just done. Nor was I relieved or feeling at all beautified. I liked the way it looked. I liked painting, creating, thicker-darker-more-luscious-lashes. But I didn't care.
That took one minute, and after looking at myself for another, I went into the bathroom and washed it off. I was not-so-shockingly stoic throughout the whole thing. It was just a curiosity forming itself into an answer. And, though I hate to admit this, the face I looked at after wiping away the excess baby shampoo and water, was a face that felt, looked, and laughed refreshing. It was a face I have come to be quite familiar with most recently. And though, not always a face I enjoy - it was definitely a face that was safe.
It's not all that grand of a story though, really. No epiphany. No heartwarming end. In fact, it's sadder, in perspective. This actually made me realize what I have been doing and why. I love make up. Yes. I love wearing it. I honestly believe it makes a lot look prettier. I believed it made myself prettier. But I was wearing makeup for so long, looking the same bland ol' face. I didn't believe I was getting any prettier, or ever really was.
The "fast" then, was a cop out. An easy way to blame the ugly. "Well, I'm not wearing any makeup." It's easier this way, to get by with the lack I feel I carry. Cause if I wear makeup, and am not satisfied with my look, what else can I do? Nothing. Cause makeup and fashion and the right hair style-that's where the beauty is. To me. So. If I have all of that, and still see nothing head-turning-room-silencing-jaw-droppingly gorgeous, what else can I do? Give up. Wear less make up (or no makeup). Dress comfortably, but not outstandingesquely. Pull my hair back or let it flop on the side of my face. Whatever. Either and all ways- I'll never be satisfied with this flesh.
So. That's where I'm at now.
I walked into my sisters room, sat down next to her predictable mess of face painting products and grabbed the little pink and green bottle I was once so familiar with. First, I curled them (the lashes). Then, I painted them. And I felt...nothing, really. As I sat there, cross legged, starring into a dirty mirror, performing a ritual I had not performed for seven months now, I felt, nothing. No change, no saddness, no joy. It was as if, it was nothing. I wasn't shocked and shamed at what I had just done. Nor was I relieved or feeling at all beautified. I liked the way it looked. I liked painting, creating, thicker-darker-more-luscious-lashes. But I didn't care.
That took one minute, and after looking at myself for another, I went into the bathroom and washed it off. I was not-so-shockingly stoic throughout the whole thing. It was just a curiosity forming itself into an answer. And, though I hate to admit this, the face I looked at after wiping away the excess baby shampoo and water, was a face that felt, looked, and laughed refreshing. It was a face I have come to be quite familiar with most recently. And though, not always a face I enjoy - it was definitely a face that was safe.
It's not all that grand of a story though, really. No epiphany. No heartwarming end. In fact, it's sadder, in perspective. This actually made me realize what I have been doing and why. I love make up. Yes. I love wearing it. I honestly believe it makes a lot look prettier. I believed it made myself prettier. But I was wearing makeup for so long, looking the same bland ol' face. I didn't believe I was getting any prettier, or ever really was.
The "fast" then, was a cop out. An easy way to blame the ugly. "Well, I'm not wearing any makeup." It's easier this way, to get by with the lack I feel I carry. Cause if I wear makeup, and am not satisfied with my look, what else can I do? Nothing. Cause makeup and fashion and the right hair style-that's where the beauty is. To me. So. If I have all of that, and still see nothing head-turning-room-silencing-jaw-droppingly gorgeous, what else can I do? Give up. Wear less make up (or no makeup). Dress comfortably, but not outstandingesquely. Pull my hair back or let it flop on the side of my face. Whatever. Either and all ways- I'll never be satisfied with this flesh.
So. That's where I'm at now.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
June 30, 2010.
I still curl my hair. I try to look as best as I can, with what I've got. Though, I'm bland in the face and round in the body. I hate looking in the mirror. I hate it. I want to break it. Lately, when I catch a glimpse of myself being happy in an outfit for just a second, I do not look in the mirror the rest of the time I am getting ready, because I know, sometime, I will figure out something that I hate about it, and change, and just get more frustrated. So when I am satisfied even for a second, I try to stay that way, so I do not end up putting myself through the agony of changing clothes, messing up my room, and eventually hating myself entirely because I can't seem to lose a single pound no matter how little I eat or how much I work out. The mirror is my worst enemy at the moment. That, and myself. Why did I do this fast again? Because I care too much about how I look? News flash: it's only getting more evident and difficult as the year goes on. I literally cannot look at myself in the mirror right now. I want to cry. And this sucks. This sucks. This sucks. Damn you, Rachel Zoe. Damn you, Sarah Michelle Gellar. Damn you, self, for being hungry, damn you, food, for being tasty. Damn damn damn.
Monday, June 28, 2010
June 28, 2010
Yeah, yeah. I suck at this. We know that. I have words saved, but it's hard to round them up and send em out when it's about this topic imparticular. Right now, what I have to say is easier. I'm struggling between two things:
and
While, it could look like my struggle is simply food vs. TV...it's mostly, food vs. looking like Sarah Michelle Gellar on TV (with her being so skinny and all). That's my current debate. Call me cliche, I'm a teenage girl who struggles with body image. Woot.
and
While, it could look like my struggle is simply food vs. TV...it's mostly, food vs. looking like Sarah Michelle Gellar on TV (with her being so skinny and all). That's my current debate. Call me cliche, I'm a teenage girl who struggles with body image. Woot.
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