self-image

I recently (this year maybe?) started putting more effort into how I look. As much as I can, I try to get at least a thin coat of foundation on my face before I leave the house. Also, I’ve done numerous wardrobe cleanses and gotten rid of clothes that don’t fit, look dangy, I don’t wear anymore or I just plain hate but held on to it for so long because they were exxy. I spent quite a great deal of money on a new haircut – the works, as well. I’m pretty much trying hard to polish myself up from my usual ripped jeans, t-shirt loving self. All of these really have helped me to feel much better about myself and about meeting people. Yet, every single day I look into the mirror and hate everything I see.

It’s odd. Some people have picked it up and yet many many people have not. Sometimes, I get told how pretty I look, I blush and just say thank you and respond quickly with a compliment. One of my friends recently told me that I looked good and then said, but skinny girls always look good. Actually, I get that A LOT and honestly doesn’t really feel like a compliment to me, but hey, I’ll take whatever is out there. I realised that what she said probably came from her own place of insecurity. She recently had a baby and life as a working mum meant there was no time to go to the gym or focus on herself, her priorities were evidently different from my own. Dressing up and spending that extra 15minutes on her face just isn’t something she can afford to do. And that’s okay. At that point in time, all I wanted to do was tell her how each and everyday, I struggle with what’s looking back at me in the mirror. My legs are scarred, my breasts small (a friend grabbed them yesterday and exclaimed how tiny asian breasts were), numerous pimples have found their rightful homes on my forehead, I’m exceedingly short, I have slit eyes. Need I continue?

I’m not going to go on a rant about how the image of western beauty has shaped society to such an extent that the idea of beauty itself seems to come packaged with a pair of deep set blue eyes, blond hair, chiselled chin, a defined nose and carried by a pair of flawless long lean legs that never end. No, I’m honestly and truthfully not saying I blame society for how each and I’m assuming every woman’s insecurity with her appearance. I think it most definitely plays a huge role, but I do believe it ultimately boils down to what the woman wants to see in the mirror. The noise of the outside world can play on and drone on if she lets it and that voice will one day drown her.

Starting with myself, maybe when I stand in front of the mirror every morning, instead of wondering what horrid elves pulled such a horrid joke on my face, I should smile and see the person who values relationships and people above all else. I should look past my tiny eyes and see the girl who is loved by God and see a soul Jesus died to save. I want to look past the fact that I have to tiptoe to get an appropriate height over my sink, I love the fact that though I may be small, I’ve learnt to be brave. Maybe I should look at my pimples and see not the ugly they seem to be but that I’ve gone through a lot. This week alone came with a mountain of challenges and these pimples mark the ones I conquered and the ones I did not. They perhaps could remind of the lessons I have learnt and must learn.

I struggle with feeling good about myself, but today, I will not be drowned out. I hope you do the same.

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