offbalance (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
offbalance) wrote2008-01-31 04:53 pm
offbalance) wrote2008-01-31 04:53 pm
Entry tags:
Setbacks and steps forward.
I didn't have much time to post at the end of last week, but I was having a pretty positive time. I'd had something of an epiphany following an unpleasant episode that I'd rather not get into (suffice it to say that I was getting mean girled by people I thought were too old for that sort of thing. Silly rabbit - I forgot that you're never too old for that sort of thing.) Anyway, I was pretty down, and long talks with my parents and ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
quasisonic (and a few other since) helped me touch on something that had been eluding me. Especially after a traumatic trip to the hairdresser (but more on that later).
The epiphany is basically that I don't have the best self-image or self-esteem. (I know, I know, join the club, right?). There are certain things that I feel good about - my real friends, the fact that I have a good job and an amazing family and lots of things to be thankful for. But there are a lot of things that I don't feel confident about, and finally it got all the way through my skull that this lack of confidence and low self-image is holding me back in many ways.
The sneaky thing is that I do have things that I'm confident about. Not many of them are external, mind you, but they're there. I'm confident in my brain, in my ability to reason, to argue, and the relative flexibility and sharpness of my intellect. I have common sense (er, mostly) as well as book smarts, and I am reminded daily about how those are in short supply. I can be really funny, I write well, and generally have a lot going for me.
All of this self-assurance starts to break down in front of a mirror, though. Aside from my eyes, lips, and boobs, I've never been thrilled about my appearance. The latter two items were a late entry on the list, too. After Angelina Jolie exploded in popularity, I learned that larger lips are a good thing to have.redesigner and his friends insisted that I should be proud of and show off the boobs more, and they were not wrong.
I grew up in a largely Irish neighborhood. I am not Irish. The majority of the girls I was surrounded by were stick-thin (you could see one girl's collarbone, and she was anything but anorexic.), pale as anything, and blonde. They all had tiny noses. Most of them were still wearing undershirts to the 8th grade prom, and I've had a bra of some kind since the end of 3rd. I was also always curvy and dark-haired, with glasses. I didn't fit the mold. I was also outspoken and headstrong. I chose to stand out. I fought the norms in every way. At the time, it was exhilarating watching them explode when I didn't wear the uniform of Gap jeans and t-shirts (I didn't wear Gap for YEARS because of that), and going against anything they liked on purpose. But under all the bravado, I was insecure as hell.
I thought that part of the whole junior high school experience (charming trip to hell that it was) didn't bother me at all. But lately I realized it did. I mean, my obsession with physical perfection equaling skinny and blonde with a certain face shape had to come from somewhere. But it wasn't really the skinny or the blonde that bothered me as much as my nose. From the ages of 11 on, I desperately wanted a nose job. My parents, being sane people, flatly refused. I refused to acknowledge why I felt this way, just that I didn't like the way I looked and wanted to be different than who I was. That I had to "fix" what was "wrong." I would have given anything to be blonde, with a little doll face and absolutely nothing unique about me. I wanted to be cookie-cutter pretty. It's pretty much exactly like one of the verses from "At the Ballet" in A Chorus Line:
"Different is nice, but it sure isn't pretty - pretty is what it's about. I never met anyone who was "different" who couldn't figure that out. "
I was largely ignored by guys, too, which only made it worse. I was already insecure about my looks and I made up my mind that the reason I was getting nowhere was because I didn't look a certain way. It wasn't that the guys were immature douches, or that I was possibly socially awkward, or any other reason. I wasn't "cute." I wasn't "tiny" or doll-like, and that's all that men wanted (not to mention dumb, docile, and compliant, but that's another post's worth of neuroses). And as much as my feminist parts cringe at this, for the longest time I associated my self-worth with whether or not I could keep or attract a boyfriend. When I couldn't, I felt horrible about myself, convinced that there was something wrong and awful about me that needed to be corrected.
Anyway, this all started to come to the forefront after a really and truly awful haircut that I got this past Saturday. My now-former stylist did not listen to a word I said or look at the pictures I brought her. She just yessed me and started cutting. When I didn't like the finished product, she "corrected it," and I still really wasn't all that happy. She blew it out so it looked okay at the time, but after trying to do it myself for the first time the following evening, the results were disastrous and I was reduced to tears. I just looked in the mirror and was reminded of all the things I didn't like about my face - particularly the nose that I'd resented since puberty. All my flaws felt like they were on display, and along with the shitty haircut, it just threw me into a tailspin. I just felt ugly, and for days. So I started trying to work out why (with help, of course). The hair will grow out (one week down, 5-7 more to go), but as for the rest of me I have nothing left to do but work on it.
The tough part is that my face isn't really going to change. I've been happier with my body since adopting an exercise regimen and watching what I eat, and have seen results. Below the neck? I think I look really good. Better than I've felt about myself in a long time. And I'm positive that with work I can get even better. However, the face isn't really going to change, and I'm trying to learn how to accept what's there.
I've been trying affirmations and complimenting myself in the mirror. (which I feel beyond stupid doing, btw). I've been trying to take the advice of "fake it till you make it," but it's not easy. I've never considered myself even remotely good looking. Mostly? Because there was no boyfriend around telling me otherwise, and I never matched the magazines. It's fucked up, but it's the truth. I felt like I was lacking, and I blamed myself for it, and it all went to hell.
I'm admitting to this now and posting about this because I want to and am trying to change. Mostly because I don't know where to start, and old habits die hard. I know that I won't have the kind of life I want until I can fix this about myself, and that this kind of thing doesn't vanish overnight, or easily. If any of you haven't tl;dr'd and have gone through something similar, I'd love to hear how you talk yourself up. (and if you have tl;dr'd, I can't blame you one bit).
What affirmations do you use? How do you boost your confidence? Is there a way to look in the mirror and like what you see? I really want to get there.
quasisonic (and a few other since) helped me touch on something that had been eluding me. Especially after a traumatic trip to the hairdresser (but more on that later). The epiphany is basically that I don't have the best self-image or self-esteem. (I know, I know, join the club, right?). There are certain things that I feel good about - my real friends, the fact that I have a good job and an amazing family and lots of things to be thankful for. But there are a lot of things that I don't feel confident about, and finally it got all the way through my skull that this lack of confidence and low self-image is holding me back in many ways.
The sneaky thing is that I do have things that I'm confident about. Not many of them are external, mind you, but they're there. I'm confident in my brain, in my ability to reason, to argue, and the relative flexibility and sharpness of my intellect. I have common sense (er, mostly) as well as book smarts, and I am reminded daily about how those are in short supply. I can be really funny, I write well, and generally have a lot going for me.
All of this self-assurance starts to break down in front of a mirror, though. Aside from my eyes, lips, and boobs, I've never been thrilled about my appearance. The latter two items were a late entry on the list, too. After Angelina Jolie exploded in popularity, I learned that larger lips are a good thing to have.
redesigner and his friends insisted that I should be proud of and show off the boobs more, and they were not wrong.I grew up in a largely Irish neighborhood. I am not Irish. The majority of the girls I was surrounded by were stick-thin (you could see one girl's collarbone, and she was anything but anorexic.), pale as anything, and blonde. They all had tiny noses. Most of them were still wearing undershirts to the 8th grade prom, and I've had a bra of some kind since the end of 3rd. I was also always curvy and dark-haired, with glasses. I didn't fit the mold. I was also outspoken and headstrong. I chose to stand out. I fought the norms in every way. At the time, it was exhilarating watching them explode when I didn't wear the uniform of Gap jeans and t-shirts (I didn't wear Gap for YEARS because of that), and going against anything they liked on purpose. But under all the bravado, I was insecure as hell.
I thought that part of the whole junior high school experience (charming trip to hell that it was) didn't bother me at all. But lately I realized it did. I mean, my obsession with physical perfection equaling skinny and blonde with a certain face shape had to come from somewhere. But it wasn't really the skinny or the blonde that bothered me as much as my nose. From the ages of 11 on, I desperately wanted a nose job. My parents, being sane people, flatly refused. I refused to acknowledge why I felt this way, just that I didn't like the way I looked and wanted to be different than who I was. That I had to "fix" what was "wrong." I would have given anything to be blonde, with a little doll face and absolutely nothing unique about me. I wanted to be cookie-cutter pretty. It's pretty much exactly like one of the verses from "At the Ballet" in A Chorus Line:
"Different is nice, but it sure isn't pretty - pretty is what it's about. I never met anyone who was "different" who couldn't figure that out. "
I was largely ignored by guys, too, which only made it worse. I was already insecure about my looks and I made up my mind that the reason I was getting nowhere was because I didn't look a certain way. It wasn't that the guys were immature douches, or that I was possibly socially awkward, or any other reason. I wasn't "cute." I wasn't "tiny" or doll-like, and that's all that men wanted (not to mention dumb, docile, and compliant, but that's another post's worth of neuroses). And as much as my feminist parts cringe at this, for the longest time I associated my self-worth with whether or not I could keep or attract a boyfriend. When I couldn't, I felt horrible about myself, convinced that there was something wrong and awful about me that needed to be corrected.
Anyway, this all started to come to the forefront after a really and truly awful haircut that I got this past Saturday. My now-former stylist did not listen to a word I said or look at the pictures I brought her. She just yessed me and started cutting. When I didn't like the finished product, she "corrected it," and I still really wasn't all that happy. She blew it out so it looked okay at the time, but after trying to do it myself for the first time the following evening, the results were disastrous and I was reduced to tears. I just looked in the mirror and was reminded of all the things I didn't like about my face - particularly the nose that I'd resented since puberty. All my flaws felt like they were on display, and along with the shitty haircut, it just threw me into a tailspin. I just felt ugly, and for days. So I started trying to work out why (with help, of course). The hair will grow out (one week down, 5-7 more to go), but as for the rest of me I have nothing left to do but work on it.
The tough part is that my face isn't really going to change. I've been happier with my body since adopting an exercise regimen and watching what I eat, and have seen results. Below the neck? I think I look really good. Better than I've felt about myself in a long time. And I'm positive that with work I can get even better. However, the face isn't really going to change, and I'm trying to learn how to accept what's there.
I've been trying affirmations and complimenting myself in the mirror. (which I feel beyond stupid doing, btw). I've been trying to take the advice of "fake it till you make it," but it's not easy. I've never considered myself even remotely good looking. Mostly? Because there was no boyfriend around telling me otherwise, and I never matched the magazines. It's fucked up, but it's the truth. I felt like I was lacking, and I blamed myself for it, and it all went to hell.
I'm admitting to this now and posting about this because I want to and am trying to change. Mostly because I don't know where to start, and old habits die hard. I know that I won't have the kind of life I want until I can fix this about myself, and that this kind of thing doesn't vanish overnight, or easily. If any of you haven't tl;dr'd and have gone through something similar, I'd love to hear how you talk yourself up. (and if you have tl;dr'd, I can't blame you one bit).
What affirmations do you use? How do you boost your confidence? Is there a way to look in the mirror and like what you see? I really want to get there.
no subject
Ok, first of all, Sharon, get out of my brain. Hahahahahaha! No, but seriously, just interject tall, smart, and chubby in there and that is pretty much my story. To this DAY, I think of myself as this wacko freak who is way too tall and weird for anyone to ever like me. It takes me a lot to like what I see in the mirror. I was never ever attractive to guys in junior high/high school because I was way taller than they were!!! This was also compounded by the fact that the one tall guy only liked tiny little girls who put out. I did NOT have sex in junior high and high school. I am SO glad I didn't, too. But at the time, I was just devestated, as much as I never wanted to admit it. I wanted nothing more than to be small and cute and pretty.
When I discovered punk, I was thrilled, because I was like, what, I am not a freak?!?!?! WHOO-HOOO!! I also went through this pahse of, "you wanna see ugly? You think I am ugly? I'll show you ugly." It was kind of liberating, to say the least. Shaving one's head teaches you a lot about how the world perceives women and concepts of beauty.
How do I talk myself up? Sharon, like you told me (and you still have no idea how much this meant to me), we are WARRIORS. When I look in that mirror in the morning, I think, THIS IS ME AND THIS IS WHAT THE WORLD IS GONNA GET. That sounds so ridiculous but I cannot tell you how much it helps me every day. Snarky, tall, smart, opinionated, beautiful ME. And the world needs snarky, not as tall as me, smart, opinionated YOU. Because dammit, if we were all Angelina Jolie, this world would be damn boring.
I love you to pieces, but you knew that. :) If you ever want to talk more about this, I AM HERE FOR YOU!
no subject
It's funny, when I talk to the decent, wonderful guys I know, many of them talk about how terrified they were to even talk to a girl back then, and/or that the ones they liked didn't know they were alive. It's interesting to get the male side of this. (And the tall one you describe sounds like a giant douche. He probably works at a car wash now!)
I sometimes wish I had the guts to be punk. In my high school, though, dyed hair and piercings and thrift-store clothes were what all the popular kids wore, so I dressed preppy in response to that. Does that count as reverse punk?
We ARE warriors. Awesome, smart, sexy, opinionated, beautiful, kick-ass warriors.
Love you to pieces, too!! ::HUGS::