Today I had a make up free scruffy kind of day. For the first time in ages I didn’t bother to wash my hair (I washed it yesterday though just incase you are wondering!) I just tied it up out the way and ignored it .. this is quite out of character for me. Normally I will put make up on just to take the rubbish down, thats the kind of girl I am. My grandad used to joke about it being war paint when my aunt would be layering on her make up and he was right. It is war paint. It is a protection against remarks about my complexion, my paleness, my tiny wonky eyes and the grey bags abandoned below those eyes. It is more though than just an attempt at physical improvement it is a barrier between the real me and the world, it is .. literally just a face, a costume .. a disguise.
Who gets to see the real me? The one behind the mask?
- My family (Well my mum, her boyfriend and my grandparents .. I don’t think my uncles seen me minus make up since I was 16.)
- My closest friends .. all two of them.
- My boyfriend. I’m not sure how he feels about me minus the mask .. I daren’t ask!
And that is it. If I am ill and have to see my dr the make up goes on, if I have to run down to the shops the make up goes on. It is like an illness but what has caused this? Why are some of us so scared to just be natural?
The media is an obvious reason. Bombarded with images of the perfect woman we feel a pressure to be like her so if she’s sat there smiling with some new mascara advertised next to her then get out of my way because I sure as hell want it. Society has idolised unrealistic models for so long that natural beauty has faded out instead we are encouraged to get the london look. A look I frankly don’t want! Let’s not even get started on the impact the porn industry has had on womens self esteem either .. seriously. Actually I will get to that but I’m going to throw that into a different paragraph .. have a guess where! I worry a lot about how I look and how insecure I feel about it. In recent months I have spent far too much money on skin care products to hide, improve and alter my face .. just my face .. I haven’t even started on the rest of the disaster that is me. I’m starting at the top and working my way down as that seems easier. I can’t tackle the bottom half and the sea of cellulite just yet.
Other women are an issue. You compare yourself to the girl down the road with the perfect hair, the girl in the supermarket with the twinkling eyes and perfect make up that compliments her cheery smiley on a saturday morning. You look at your girlfriends and find yourself making remarks about how its alright for them because of such and such a feature .. I witnessed it yesterday with the besties who proclaimed it was alright for me as I wasn’t the same size as them .. almost said “hello my name is Katy and I am just as insecure as you are .. so shut up.” but that wouldn’t have been very supportive so I didn’t and we went for a burger instead.
And last but not least. The big reason I believe women or at least me have all these issues …
Yeah you might be all funny, beardy and irresistible but you do a lot of damage to our fragile minds and esteems.
Here are some of the things men have said to me that I still remember for I shall not forget .. I am woman after all.
- You’re alright but I don’t like your chin. It ruins your entire face.
- You’re damaged goods.
- I couldn’t fall in love with someone who looks like you as long as you can accept that we can carry on going out.
- You’re too skinny I’m scared I’m going to break you.
- You’ve got too big, you aren’t like you used to be and you don’t seem to care.
- Can you dye your hair this colour? And tie it up with shoe laces I used to date a girl like that she was really pretty.
- Are you actually happy with your appearance?
- It’s just sex I don’t need to look at you or be seen with you.
and my personal favourite ..
- I didn’t mean to sleep with her but she was like a goddess. She was so different to you. She’s beautiful.
After you’ve heard all that you have to contend with the porn issue. Men will always watch and compare .. they may not admit it and they may say it means nothing but they will continue to do it because men are so visual when it comes to sex, it’s just how they are programmed and that’s fine until you realise you aren’t those women and it seeps into your brain so much that you aren’t big boobed and long legged, you aren’t some tart they have photos of on their phone or message occasionally online .. you’re real. The worst bit is you want to be that girl so badly for a while, you wish you would wake up with the perfect hair, the eyes that melt hearts but get the blood pounding all at the same time, the legs that go on for miles and the chest that stops traffic but alas no .. you wake up and your hairs a knotted mess, your complexion looks like someones tested various foundations out on you and your little legs are clothes in oversized tracksuit pants and your chest, well, as Shakira said small and humble hidden beneath an oversized, probably stained, tshirt. All in all mediocre at the best. Not top shelf material, never going to be. You try to do sexy for him, you don stockings and suspenders you buy expensive underwear that’s uncomfortable and awkward and it works at the time but it’s still the same old you and is that enough? For some men no. You know they are looking elsewhere and it kills you even if the looking isn’t “real life” as they often proclaim. They wonder why it is such an issue for you and you can never explain.
I hate how insecure all that stuff in the past has made me, even now it haunts me and I feel inferior .. the words of men who claim to love you have a habit of taking roots and never leaving .. sad but that’s how it is. So combine the words of bullies from school, men from adulthood and the media showing me how I should be and here I sit an inferior example of womankind. I could change .. I could go on a diet (I think I will) and I could change my wardrobe, eat better, exercise more and overhaul my life but then part of me goes shouldn’t I be loved and accepted for who I am and how I am? For the me that is .. me.
I’m a real girl, just said that in the pinocchio I’m a real boy way .. creepy. Anywho .. I am a real girl. I eat cake, I don’t exercise enough if at all, I get spots, have split ends, am collecting cellulite at such a rate I’ve decided to dress as an orange for Halloween and I never turn heads on the street unless I’m doing my dinosaur impression. Maybe, just maybe, I am beautiful in my own right and I shouldn’t judge myself so harshly. I should ignore the words of fools and cretins and rise above it safe in the knowledge that I am gorgeous and, despite my plain exterior, a goddess .. just not in the stereotypical attention seeking way .. a goddess in disguise ..
Appearance rant over for now .. off to boots to look for the next skin care miracle and make up delight.