(( OOC: I’m so sorry you’re feeling this way dearie. This is the hard thing about confidence though… gaining it is entirely in your court.
I have a lot of loved ones that are what most people would call “stereotypically” beautiful. They’re the kind of people you’d see on a magazine cover. They’re the kind that never seem to be able to take a bad picture. They’re the kind that people stop in their tracks to stare at.
They have people telling them, constantly, how beautiful they are… but that doesn’t mean they are confident.
Many of them have some of the worst lows, and moments of self-loathing, I’ve ever seen.
No one can tell you anything that will make you feel confident in yourself. No one convince you to see what you can’t see yourself.
I have a lot of people asking me if the amount of people that send me compliments makes me feel better about myself, and while it’s true that it’s nice to hear that people like the way I look, it doesn’t mean that it keeps me from feeling insecure.
My confidence came from me working through my own issues, and deciding to maintain a positive thought process when thinking about myself… and that doesn’t mean I’m confident all the time. I have to work at it.
“Confidence” is nothing more than choosing to see the good, and creating habits based around positive reinforcement.
If you look in the mirror and do nothing but pick out your flaws, then that’s all you will see. If you look in the mirror and make a habit of picking out the aspects of yourself that you like, then you will start to gain confidence in yourself. It’s a process, but it will become second nature the more you do it.
If someone tells you they don’t like something about the way you look, then it’s okay to feel hurt… but after that, tell yourself that it’s fine, that not everyone has the same preferences, and move on.
Also, “beauty” according to social standards, is fleeting. What will you have to be confident over when you are no longer considered “young”?
I honestly feel that gaining confidence in your abilities and your personality is far more important in the long run, because that’s something that you can continue to grow, improve and enjoy.
We are ever-changing beings… we don’t have to stay the same. If there’s a personality trait that you don’t love, something that keeps you from connecting to others, or something you want to change, then do it! That’s not being insincere or untrue to yourself, that’s part of growing.
Don’t make excuses for poor behavior or weaknesses, just work to improve them and allow yourself to become better.
Confidence is nothing more than a mindset, and it starts and ends with you. ))
Shout out to mentally ill people who dropped out of school
– shout out to the kids who were “so bright” and ‘heading somewhere” and had to drop out because school was too much to handle along with mental illness
– shout out to the kids who struggled to get where they got before they dropped out
– shout out to the kids who tried and tried and tried and still couldn’t finish
you aren’t unintelligent because you dropped out of school, you aren’t a delinquent or a bad person because you dropped out of school, just because you did what you had to doesn’t make you a bad person
i witness pictures of a “relaxing” woman and i think: it is funny how they see us. in the movies under the shower, the actress stands with shaved legs, leaning into the water, opening her mouth with a sensuous sigh. our sleepovers are supposed to come with bras and tight panties, laughing our painted lips over pizza you don’t see us eat. we take walks in the park in good heels, look excellent after running, always have a gentle smile on our pristine faces.
an artist draws a piece about how women alone don’t have to be sad that they’re alone, they should relish in it, which i thank him for giving me permission to do. the result of his work is half-nude ladies draped like linens over their couches, flashes of thigh gaps and open lips, breasts swelling pleasantly, a yawn and and stretch that shows off her hipbones.
the only evidence i have that i’m normal is considered comedy. our reality is comedy. lying in bed under three covers, bra off but sweater on, laptop positioned directly under lack of a chin: that gets a laugh. in the movies, the quirky girl in a cute-ugly but somehow flattering pajama set gets caught at the supermarket and it’s a nice romantic scene where we find out how awkward it is for her to exist without makeup, without her best effort to please sexually. she sees her boss or her cute friend or whatever else makes us laugh and cringe and the next time we put on “real clothes” before we go out shopping.
the real world exists somewhere outside the picture of women. we come home and strip off our bras, but instead of that being a still image of a delicate female stepping away nude, it’s a moment of our peacefulness. the narrative so often stops here, us heading our improbably slim legs to the bedroom. but instead our breasts don’t always hang evenly, instead some of us do not have breasts, instead we swipe a hand over our tired faces and smear our makeup but are too lazy to take it off. our bodies crack and crunch and do not stretch like a cat but instead in weird directions, we rush out our breath and slouch and barely keep our eyes open. we lie with our thighs touching and our stomachs hanging because it’s comfortable. we sling ourselves undainty over whatever will support our weight. our showers consist equally of staring into the void as of unflattering angles while we wash; our bodies never come pre-shaved and for some reason our underarm hair is really persistent or our leg hair is dark and shows even after shaving or maybe both. our sleepovers mostly feature netflix and wine, getting food on our faces, eating until our stomachs make round pleased hills, talking trash and swearing up storms more than we paint our nails. we don’t go to the store in cute-ugly clothes, we go because we forgot to buy tampons or we dropped all our rice on the ground or because we’re human and we need supplies to survive.
there is a very strange body-positive rule where somehow, we always end up under the slogan “beautiful.” our loneliness, our adulthood, our moments where were are not even being judged – i should remind you that those are beautiful too. but the truth is that you don’t need to be beautiful. and these moments in particular, that belong to you: they’re yours, they don’t need to be told that they exist in some plane of desirability. who cares if they’re ugly, if they’re truly self-serving and unflattering and indelicate. when you are home, you are finally human, returned to skin that itches in awkward places and ugly habits and it’s okay. they won’t show you a version of that without laughing about it, but we are real, we don’t keep ourselves perfect in even our peaceful moments. it’s okay. i know you might be worried what happens if you get a partner or roommate and they learn you live this way, that you’re messy and forget to brush your teeth sometimes and get food all over the place when you eat and i’m telling you: you’re not unusual. you’re just human, and these moments aren’t somehow shameful. they’re not untouchable and unspeakable because they’re not pretty. because instead they’re human.
we aren’t here to be watched, and we don’t need your approval.
we weren’t created to always please. sometimes we get to take a break from beautiful.
write write write 