Saturday, January 31, 2009
Caution: major lack of self-esteem.
Song of the Glob: Big Girl (You are beautiful) by Mika.
I wrote the following (awful) post the other day when my self-esteem had hit rock bottom. I don't feel like this every day but I do still feel and think about a lot of what I say in it, all the time. I'll probably write a glob with this, among a few other things, in mind. It should make more sense and be less stupid.
A lot of this probably came out wrong too... :/
This is how I was feeling the other day:
I’ve been dealing with this issue for quite a while now. So many times, recently, have I come close to crying but always managed to assure my tears that letting them out later would be better.
I saw this smoking-hot girl in a movie, playing someone a lot younger than she actually is (as was her co-star), whom you merely have to type “me” in the search box to find her name come up first in the recommended links on Google. It could have easily been a fluke between time, prick and porn, but I began comparing myself to her, then to other “beautiful” people on television and in videos or films. I know how stupid it is to do that. To compare a normal person to a celebrity/model/actress/singer who has enough money to get the plastic surgeries they want, to pay for their personal trainers, to spend hours working out, to pay for all the skin-cleaning products they need, to permanently remove every unwanted hair or mark on their body, to have hair and makeup stylists on-call, to get airbrushed and edited, to make sure the media refrains from exploitation and exhibition of their bad pictures… is stupid. Perhaps it’s hypocritical of me to do and think these things since I readily fight to help my friends understand that they are beautiful, because they are, and I like reminding them of that, but I’m caught in my own self-doubt, nevertheless. It’s not advice that I can seem to take, myself.
I went through the list of all the body parts that I currently own to see how many I could find that I like.
I like one thing about myself. (Well, technically, there are two of them but they count as one because they’re the same thing-ish.)
Before, when a question like “If you could change your physical appearance in some way, would you?” was raised, my answer was no. I figured I could fix certain imperfections with the aid of time and money, both of which I do not currently possess. Lately, I’ve been thinking that yes, I would change things, and not just a couple of things, but the other 99.99% of things about me that I dislike. Would I ever go through with plastic surgery? I can’t say that I would, no. Maybe one thing, but … maybe not. Now I’m confusing, so I’ll bring up the excuse that never fails me: it’s late and I’m tired. (Emotional as well, but not PMSing. So, suck it!)
I’m really tired of doubting myself.
In the past, I’ve been told that I am beautiful and I do believe those words, but only at the time they are said because later on, I think, and that’s never a good thing. I think things like, “Yeah, but that’s coming from seeing the tip of the iceberg alone; cursed be the day you see more.” or “Try saying that and meaning it, on my worst day, when my hair is a mess, when I could use a shower, in bad lighting, from a horrible angle, stark naked.” - not that I would ever blame anyone for not being able to go through with that. But then, one remembers that you also don’t see celebrities like that.
I guess, since being beautiful is out of the question, in my opinion, all I want is to feel beautiful. Maybe sexy too. But how do you feel sexy and beautiful if you’re convinced that you’re not?
I hate claiming to be the victim… but I do, do it… I don‘t mean to. I don’t want anybody telling me I’m beautiful because I want to hear it. I don’t want anybody telling me I’m beautiful because they want to get something out of it… out of me. I don’t want to hear it out of pity or sympathy. I want to hear it because someone genuinely thinks it.
I am aware of those who think I’m beautiful, and of those who think I’m pretty, and of those who think I’m cute, and of those who think I’m half-decent, and of those who think I’m “bleh.” I might be wrong about it once in a while, but other times it’s quite clear. I wish certain people matched up with different adjectives sometimes, though…
“Me______” is hot, but not beautiful. She is, sometimes, but if she’s only beautiful sometimes, then she’s just that.
There’s inner beauty and there’s outer beauty. I’m blind to any inner beauty I might have, but, selfishly so, I do wish I had more outer beauty. That sounds horrible and it probably reduced my inner beauty score by 30%, but I still feel it.
Maybe one day I will feel good about myself. I did, a little, for a while at some point, but drown me in a tub of ice-cream and get me something fried and coated in chocolate, we haven’t changed or grown an inch since 5’1.
It’s cold in this freezer. Let’s see if I warm up and melt a little. Maybe I’ll open the door, ‘cause you can’t always wait for someone to open it for you.