If only I could stop measuring my worth
in the teaspoons of your approval.
In light of the recent Dove campaigns, and a bunch of conversations I've been having, and sort of the way I've been feeling lately, I wanted to talk about the ever-loathed subject of body image.
What? The skinny white girl that hasn't changed her hair length since she was born, supposedly doesn't care about what she wears, and only shaves when she absolutely has to? That's me, but that's me on the exterior.
On the exterior I'm always telling people how beautiful they look, how strong they are, how nothing is stopping them, that they're powerful individuals.
On the inside, I'm always telling myself that I'm average-looking at best, on my worst days I'm bordering on extremely unattractive. I'm telling myself that I'm weak, that I can only control myself with medication and alcohol. I'm telling myself that everything I do sucks, that I'm a "good-for-nothing."
I hate my body.
I hate my skin complexion and how I seem to always have acne on my face, and I hate the way my hair grows, and I hate the hair that covers my body and the way my legs move when I run, and I hate that I'm not actually in-shape enough to go running, and I hate the size of my boobs and the size of my feet and the scars on my knees.
There's just so much hatred.
Maybe society is constantly telling me I'm "not pretty enough" or "not good enough."
But I'm also telling myself that.
A couple weeks ago I was involved on a conversation about "hot girls." The hot girls with big breasts and long blond hair. And I found myself thinking "Wow, I'm not good enough for him. My boobs aren't big enough, my hair isn't the right color, it's not long enough, I'm not tall enough."
My mind just kept saying "not enough, not enough" over and over and over again until I went home and cried while I showered, wondering who I would be enough for. If I would ever be enough for anyone, even myself.
The point that I'm trying to make is that there is no limit on hatred of yourself.
You don't have to be over a certain weight or under it.
You don't have to be x tall or boob-size z.
You don't need a certain skin or hair color to be disappointed with the way you look.
All you need is that one person to say "you're not good enough," and more times than not, it's yourself.
**
But no matter what you think of yourself, someone thinks you're beautiful. It's the little things that matter.
Every day I try to find one thing about myself that I can be happy with. Maybe my hair looks good. Maybe my butt looks really great in this dress. Maybe my bra actually makes it look like I have real boobs. Sometimes that's a lot easier said than done. Sometimes it works.
Every day I try to tell someone they look great or beautiful, or that I love what they're doing. Because chances are, if they're like me, they're too busy telling themselves they look ugly or they're good-for-nothing to do it for themselves.
