Beauty Standards Suck

Women are always told the ideal way to dress. To do their make-up. Style their hair. How much they should weigh. How tall they should be. What their eye color should be. How to fix every little thing about them so they can finally be beautiful.

There are many things that I do not like about the way that I look. Some of them bother me infinitely more than others. Some of them only bother me sometimes. But they are always there, in the back of my head, reminding me about where I am not enough (or too much, in some cases).

I have written about my weight before. That is still an ongoing battle. While I have actually lost the baby weight, I am not done. I am ecstatic that the scale is closer to what it was when I got married, but my body is not the same. My muscles are gone. My figure is not in shape. I am still working on this.

I miss my arms that actually had muscles. I miss my abs and tiny waist. I miss having nice legs.

I played soccer for 15 years of my life, so I have broken my nose a couple of times. It didn’t really cause me any self esteem issues until I became a high schooler. I tried to ignore it, but beauty plays a huge part in acting. Talent is great and all, but looks count. The song “Dance: Ten, Looks: Three” from A Chorus Line is accurate. I am believable as the quirky friend, but not a love interest.

I have debated several times over getting a nose job. By the time I got married, I was pretty over it. Did I like my nose? No. But oh well.

Well… I have been thinking about it again.

I just feel so down on myself about so much. Would something as minute and superficial as this really make me feel better? Sadly, yes. It would. I know this from years of loathing my own face because of this.

Would it make my wallet feel better? Lololol. No.

And since I need money to pay the rent but not acceptance over my image, all these thoughts are purely abstract.

I have incredibly sensitive skin. I am really pale and have had two skin cancer scares in my lifetime. I am pretty good about sunscreen ever since I was a teen and had scare #1, but have been trying to be better about my skin in general. I am incredibly fair skinned. I honestly do not mind being so pale. I do mind that I don’t get to look like porcelain, but rather a crumpled piece of tissue paper. Pale skin shows everything so much clearer. Lines. Blemishes. Wrinkles. I crave that miraculous skin care regimen that makes people flawless.

I actually have two moles that were looked at this past summer as “concerning”. They aren’t cancerous, so no big deal. Except that I hate them. I want them removed. Not medically necessary. Not fiscally responsible. But still digging into my brain like a thorn.

Augh. This isn’t it. There is so much. But I just can’t articulate it.

I just want to look in the mirror and not cringe.

I just would really like to feel “pretty” in my own skin.

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