Almost every day I wake up and wonder “what do I look like today?” #facepalm
I’ll admit it. It might sound silly, but it’s true. New zits, veins and curves pop up on the daily, and I wonder more often than not, how can this be me?
Body image; it’s truly a MIND FUCK. Engrained so tightly in our society, it’s become a sickness. Young girls barely old enough to ride rollercoasters wearing more make up than I own. Workout regimes and communities so overwrought with judgement it’s hard to muster up the courage to go to the gym. Magazine covers and late night TV ads selling the next ‘cure’ for this ‘disease’. The culture we have born and bread is oozing pressure, and I really have had a hard time wrapping my brain around where I stand on the sliding scale of beauty, as most women do, even when I’m the judge.
Sometime I catch a glimpse of myself and wonder, “where the hell did those thighs come from?” Other times, my psyche is more gentle and I’m almost shocked thinking, “wow, you still got it, for 30”. I definitely catch myself comparing what I’m working with to others bodies, and then quickly slapping myself on the wrist thinking “come on Sara, you’re better than this!”
I know there are plenty of women my age and older who still look STUNNING… I STILL look stunning, right? It shouldn’t matter, right? But it does. Please, save the overly eager rhetorics, this is not a plea for compliments, and I do have a point to make.
I asked my boyfriend today if I was getting too ‘old’ to wear a swimsuit. When I said old, I really meant ‘fat’ and he knew that. He kindly said, “if you feel good about it, rock the shit out of it until you don’t”. So I put on my bikini and muttered “you’ll still tell me, when it’s too much, right?”
Right. I see women every day, of all sizes confused about their image. I see petite women hiding in shame and bigger boned statues flaunting like they just don’t care, which is inspiring. I want to not care. I used to not care…
Every since I can remember I was ‘skinny’. In recent years, I’ve committed to being ‘skinny fat’. I just don’t want to give up cheese, is what it really comes down to. I don’t want to get up at 5 am and go running. I kind of like having the munchies. I don’t want to be miserable. I don’t want to be afraid of a scale. I want to be HEALTHY.
A few months ago, I was in Colorado, feeling FABULOUS. I was wearing this shorter white jean skirt that I love and a black top (from It’s a Beautiful Day) that dips low in the back, kinda sexy. I had done my yoga, put on make up, dolled up my hair, and walking down the street to dinner some guy yells out of his car “put some clothes on”. It stopped me in my tracks.
Those words have rung through my head repeatedly since… not obsessively, but just enough that they still echo occasionally. He could have not even been talking to me. He could have been angry he doesn’t have a woman. He could have been right.
It’s not all the time that I worry about what I look like, but it amazes me how fast my own perception can change. One minute I’m composed, passionate, entertaining on a stage and confident, smiling and getting bad looks from other women’s husbands for just being in the room. Then I get home, wash my face, catching a glimpse of myself as I climb into bed thinking “how can that be the same person?” and “What is wrong with me?”
I do know that I am a ferociously strong, beautiful and smart competent women, and that if I can have these thoughts, by Goddess I must not be alone.
So I decided to say something about it, instead of hiding in shame; to admit it, to myself, if not to anyone else… Because it’s OKAY to feel discouraged. It’s OKAY to feel deflated or bloated. And it’s OKAY to be honest about what’s going on in our heads, let alone in our society. If we can’t talk openly about what’s causing shame or doubt in our own methodology, we can’t be expected to be competent in fixing our political and social economics.
So here I am, my own walking MissConception, naked, on a page, for you to look at, or turn away from as you like. Just know that if you’ve ever woken up and not known what you look like, at 15, even at 30, or 60, that’s OKAY. Every day is a chance to make yourself over again, spiritually, emotionally, and physically. It really is inside that matters, I keep reminding myself, and self-care is the best path I’ve found to connect the inside with the outside image. Loving yourself unconditionally, whether that means mud masks and wine, or a once a month pedicure. #ladiesnight
I’ve taken an oath that since the Trump rein has descended, this is an opportunity to better my own life. November 8, 2016, we awoke from a bad dream that wasn’t really a dream. Our waters and food are poisoned. Our air is unfit to breath. Hatred and bigotry and misunderstandings abound. The government is corrupt. No one trusts anyone, let alone the leadership. Information is to be weary of. Even prayer feels dead. It’s truly a nightmare. You know the story.
I figure, the only thing I can do is better ME. So I am making a pact. To do one thing everyday for myself that betters me, like streching most importantly, or exercise or other self care. And a pact to do one thing everyday that helps spread kindness/awarness to those around me that this world CAN be a good place, and we will NOT settle for this state of the union. Everyone seems to want to make America great again. Let’s start with individually, one by one, being the change. Give our ancestors and grandchildren someting to be proud of. I don’t pretend any of this is easy, or that there is only one right answer. I just know that we must ‘eat the elephant one bite as a time’ as Papa Sidney would say, and press forward step by step. #wwsd #nodapl
WE MUST also EMPOWER each other, let alone ourselves ourselves, be it physically or emotionally, so that we can get through this time with as much grace and dignity that we can muster. When someone looks lovely, TELL THEM. When someone does something kind, THANK THEM. Go out of your way to let any objectified person know that paying attention to detail matters, and that you appreciate their strength, or light, or whatever you want to deem it. This isn’t about complimenting materials, it’s about cultivating confidence.
Do you know how much easier it is to save the world when you know you look healthy doing it?
This article might appear self-centered and vain, but it’s what women and some men deal with every single day. We are not alone in this internal conflict. And we all play a part in allowing each other to feel comfortable in our own skins, so that we may continue to make ourselves and the world a better place. I believe in you.
Stay beautiful and stay honest,
MissComplexion
