Month: June 2008 Page 2 of 5

Confession of a weak moment

Tonight for some reason I am hit with all my insecurities. I am not what I would call an overall insecure person, but every now and then I have a hard time dealing with my physical appearance. That’s pretty much the only thing that I ever really get insecure about, at least regarding just myself. (Relationships are a whole different story.)

Maybe it’s because I don’t doubt myself in other arenas that I “must” be plagued by my appearance. Maybe it’s because I’ve just asked myself to have an incredible amount of confidence in myself — enough to literally impoverish myself, to quit my job, to put all my eggs in one basket: writing. Maybe it’s because I’ve been brainwashed by society or my parents or whoever else is available to blame. Maybe it’s because I really am not all that pretty.

Does it even matter why?

[sigh]

I’m sure I’ll regret posting this tomorrow, but tonight, I just need to get it off my chest.

I want to be beautiful. I want to be sexy. I want to be well-dressed. I want great legs, a toned stomach, and a nice butt. I want a stronger jawline. I want men to stop when they see me. I want women to be jealous. I don’t want to wonder if I’m one of the best-looking people in a room; I want to know that I am.

And I don’t want to have to put much effort into any of it.

Hahaha, I’m so reasonable, right?

I don’t know where all these desires came from, or when, or why. When I was younger, I wasn’t really concerned about this stuff. I may even have been a little vain. Every boy I liked eventually liked me back (although usually not at the same time). All my family friends said I was pretty, and you could tell that they meant it. I ate anything and everything, and I never gained a pound. I guess I thought it would always come that easy.

Actually no. It wasn’t always easy. In middle school, I swore not to shave my legs until high school, because some guy had made fun of my friend for her leg hair, and I was determined to prove that he was wrong. In high school, I refused to see a dermatologist, because I wanted to prove that I was stronger than my pimples, that I would always be more than just a face, pretty or not. In college, I took pictures of myself mostly naked to get more comfortable with my body. Even today, I sometimes catch myself thinking I should skip a meal to lose some weight, and then I kind of mentally slap myself because I know starvation is not the path to happiness. (Quite the opposite, in fact.)

Just so no one thinks I’m a horrible or delusional person, I’ll say that I am well-aware that I’m fairly lucky. I have good genes and decent metabolism, and I’m not ugly. I know that. But sometimes, like tonight, it’s not enough.

Nights like these, I try to remember the few really good moments that I have and hold on to. Like that time on the bus when those two girls asked that guy who he thought was pretty, and they pointed to themselves and he said no, and they pointed to a couple other girls and he said no, and then they pointed to me, and he paused, and he whispered, Yes. Or that time my friend told me she kind of hated how no matter what I wear, I manage to look cute. Or that time he looked at me and told me I was a goddess.

I don’t have a good memory, but I remember these things.

But the times I have felt truly beautiful have been few and far between, and often things happen later to color those memories, to make me feel like maybe my self-perception was wrong. Like someone telling me my makeup looked trashy. Or someone telling me the top I was wearing makes my boobs look saggy. Or someone telling me I have a big butt.

I don’t have a good memory, but I remember these things.

I guess ultimately the problem resides within myself. Oh sure, the people whose opinions matter most to me could probably do a lot to help me stay strong, but the truth is, beauty is subjective, and apparently I don’t meet my own criteria. How do I change that? How do I look at myself through the same eyes as those I set upon other people? Or is it that I should be looking at myself with different eyes?

How do you change your definition of beauty to necessarily include yourself?

If anyone has the answers, I’m all ears.

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Letting go

The decor8 post that I quoted on Tuesday also contained this little nugget:

We tend to judge others for the roles that they take on as adults, [but] it is not up to us to direct the life of another person. We can only be a good example and be the change we want to see, not force others into a role we think is best for them.

I started to write this big long post about judging and being judged and all the issues I’ve had with both of those things in the past. But then I realized, it doesn’t really matter what happened before. What counts is what happens now.

.

I think that to be a good writer, you have to be fearless. You can’t worry about whether or not someone is going to judge you or be upset about something you wrote. If you did, you could never write the truth. You’d always be skimming the surface, never delving into the depths of real human character or emotion.

The truth is not always pretty, but often it is the ugly things in life that teach us the most.

.

I’m not there yet. I am not fearless.

But I’m working on it.

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Foto Friday: Clarence Junior!

If you care about why this bunny is on this Web site, read the previous post.

Clarence Junior! 004

Clarence Junior! 005

But does this kind of cuteness really need a reason?

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Little bunny foo foo

Best way to drive your puppy nuts: discover an adorable baby bunny who lives outside your front door and is willing to let you come within 3 feet of him. Guaranteed to make your dog pull so hard on his leash that he will nearly choke himself.

Also guaranteed to make you gush for 3 days straight, so that your boyfriend finally gives in and says, “Do you want to try and feed him?”

To which you will respond, “I already got the carrots.”

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Quickie (more to come) (no pun intended…)

Yesterday’s decor8 featured a great post titled “Career Advice for Creatives”, which is intended for designers but really applies to anyone in any field:

I decided that the comfort of income wasn’t as important as the comfort of a joyful, happy spirit. I wanted to regain joy and the steady income wasn’t doing it so my answer was quite clear. Sacrifice the pay and pursue a career doing what I felt passionate about.

There are so many people who panic when faced with the thought of “not enough money,” myself included, but in reality, pursuing one’s dreams (and making the necessary sacrifices to do so) isn’t a luxury or a fantasy. It’s a mentality. Change your definition of “enough,” and you could change your whole world.

Also, I truly believe that even if we can’t all have our dream jobs, we can find work that we don’t hate or dread while we pursue our other passions. It’s a matter of working to live or living to work. For a lucky few, the two are the same. For the rest, the choice should be clear.

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