Fairy Lights and Feels

(via tdshadowgirl-deactivated2016080)

There are probably no photos of me from the last three years in existence in which I’m not wearing make up except for this one that I took today. Even if there was one, I definitely wouldn’t be smiling in it. I would have complained about having my photo taken and it would either be a forced photo or one I was unaware was being taken. 

Why was I like that? I’d previously always been too insecure about my acne and the scars four years of it have left behind and the consequent red patchy skin. My right eye does a weird thing when I smile which I inherited from my dad’s squint eye and I have a slightly off centre and squint smile with weird dimples. My teeth are now straight but slightly yellowed from braces and some hairs are beginning to grow back between my eyebrows. I have lots of baby hairs, making it look like I have a receding hairline, my hair is neither blonde nor brown and goes flat quite easily. My face is slightly chubby, especially at the cheeks and I’ve started getting some acne on my chest now. I can’t smile properly without showing my teeth and if I try, I look stupid. My ears are disproportionately small for my face and my height. These are all my biggest facial insecurities and there are many more all over my body. My thigh stretch marks, my knees that have fluid on them and look strange and my several scars. The cellulite on my bum, the width and flab of my thighs and the ever-changing stomach and waist size. I’m not as tall as I would like to be at 5 feet and 7 inches. I don’t have them on in this photo but I wear glasses and really need them to see; I wear contacts most of the time now. I’m awful at sports and have zero stamina. I can’t paint or mould or draw. These are just a few of the things that I hate about myself. 

The majority of the world suffers from stretch marks as well as acne and it’s consequent scars and redness. Most women, as well as many men, have cellulite. The fluid on my knees was inherited from my mum and it’s due to my unbalanced tendons and can’t be helped. Everyone on earth has a scar somewhere.

Why do I see all of these things that make me who I am, that are my proof of living as ugly? Why don’t I see all these things as things that make me beautiful?

I’m lucky enough to have thick, dark eyelashes and eyebrows as well as greeny-brown eyes that change in the light though you can’t tell that from this selfie. I have longs legs, an hourglass figure albeit not one like Kim Kardashian or the likes and boobs that I love the size of, small enough to wear bralettes but not too big for them to ever be uncomfortable. I can play the flute to ABRSM grade 7, I can sing well, I can ski, act and dance pretty well. I’m representing my country at debating competitions at the highest standard in the world, I have amazing and supportive friends all over the world. I have so much random knowledge that I’m super proud of and I know what I want my future to look like which is rare at this age. I’ll stand up to racists, homophobes and offensive people. I’m a feminist that isn’t afraid to speak about it despite the ridicule and disdain I get from the guys my age. This is what I think of when I think of what makes me special and different. But only when these actions were performed or these features were worn by me with make up on my face, wearing flattering clothing along with my uber-confident alter ego that I hide my huge and endless amount of insecurities behind.

Why can’t I see the me with glasses, flat hair, no make up on, my comfy t-shirt and leggings or trousers on who adores Harry Potter and knows all the words to countless musicals and who’s idol is Emmeline Pankhurst in the same light as see the other, fake even, me? 

Why can I only love the me that fits in with how society wants me to be? Why can I only be ok with the me who’s jeans are too big, who’s acne is hidden and who’s contacts are in? The me who has ‘fashionable’ clothes on, who’s eyebrows are ‘on fleek’ and who’s hair looks nice?

My answer after thinking about this was this: society along with myself have taught me how to hate myself and how that was the right thing to do.

My initial reaction to this conclusion was something along the lines of “Well f*** society and what it’s taught me. I’m gonna rebel and learn to love myself more. I’m gonna be me and different. In fact, I’ll stop wearing make up and only flattering clothing…” and so on.

My resolution however, didn’t last long. In fact even as I was saying these things I was reconsidering them. I’m still too insecure to go out somewhere without make up on and the same with flattering clothing. I still get annoyed at my hair and my weight. I still wish my stretch marks weren’t so obvious and my eyes would be even. 

Instead I chose to learn to love myself

The saying (I don’t know who it’s by) ‘in a society that profits from your self doubt, loving yourself is a rebellious act’ is my motivation. I want to nurture my tiny rebellious streak and I want to love myself, so it’s a win-win situation.

So there are occasionally time now where I’ve chosen glasses over contacts for the ease. Times where I haven’t put make up on after a sleepover girls, guys and parents were at. Times where I’ve gone out in messy buns, ‘nerdy’ t-shirts and comfy shorts. 

But the biggest thing for me, is I’ve become more ok with my acne and it’s scars. I’m never going to be 100% ok with my appearance, but right now, I’m learning to love imperfect and therefore perfect me.

(Source: weheartit.com, via pale-grunge-dark)

(Source: theyoungkimosabe, via theyoungkimosabe)

(Source: flickr.com, via timeout)