Man, I’m cranky today. Just got seriously pissed off at a video a friend sent me. It was a sped up video of a woman putting on make-up, but even before it was halfway through, I was in a rage and had to shut it off. This is my issue, clearly, since I am the one upset by this, so this is not me judging or criticizing. This is me writing to figure out how and why this video triggered me so quickly and so intensely.

I think my anger was fueled by the never-ending expectations of society (for me to put on a pretty face), and for the time lost throughout a lifetime making that kind of effort to make oneself presentable to others, or to oneself for that matter (which is the real kicker for me). We are taught, as women, at a very young age that make-up is something that will make us more beautiful and attract others to us. Fuck your heart, spirit and soul, my dear, these lashes and lipstick are what you need. That’s basically what our daughters hear and see from pretty much birth. I watched my beautiful mom apply make-up everyday before going to work or out somewhere, and I don’t blame her for that; she was just going along with what was expected of her (us). We, as women, are expected to “be pretty.” And that means doing our hair, wearing make-up, dressing nicely and fashionably, etc. What’s in our hearts and minds is rarely the first thing that strikes an impression on another. It’s what our face, hair, body and outfit look like that attracts us to others. One’s outer appearance, for many, is enough to tell someone if they are going to jive with another person or not. It’s true for me, too. I am often taken aback by another human’s appearance, only to be humbled as I get to know that person on a deeper level. Once I see what their heart “looks” like, their clothes, hair and make-up matter much less. I have judged others most definitely (and most harshly) by the way they show themselves physically to the world, but I am working on this. What upsets me the most at this moment is the way I have tortured myself over my physical appearance. How much of this precious life I have stood in front of a mirror agonizing over the reflection staring back at me.

Nothing has pained me more than the self-loathing of that reflection. This hatred reached an all time high during my teenage years. There were many days in which I couldn’t bring myself to go to school because I felt I was just “too ugly.” Too ugly to leave the house. Obviously, I had some deep issues going on, as I was severely depressed and struggling with body image and a blossoming eating disorder. What kills me today is that I wasn’t ugly at all. I was a cute kid, but my eyes didn’t see that, unfortunately. I bought tons of magazines targeted at women and teenagers, and wanted so badly to have a different face and different hair and different clothes. Different everything, really. I feel sad and kind of mad when I think back to my suffering teen self, but as with hindsight, I see that everything happens as it was supposed to happen. Our pain teaches us so many lessons. And the pain never completely goes away, but we can face it, grow and let some of it go. It doesn’t always have to hurt so damn much.

To some extent, I still have some body image issues going on today, but I am not paralyzed by them. There are some days where it’s just best I stay away from mirrors and reflective surfaces all together, because that focus can tend to drain me of the joy and presence I wish to embody as a mom of two rambunctious little boys. Most days, I am free and live my life quite happily and fully. Do I wish my skin was clear and had no dark spots? Sure. Do I dream of better hair and a flatter stomach? Yup. I am human. A human with an imperfect body. And that, folks, is really ok. Humans aren’t meant to be perfect. Our skin and bodies house a SOUL! A fucking SOUL! That’s pretty damn amazing if you ask me. My soul gets to live this life and experience so many things, like love and parenthood and animals and nature. It’s a gift to be in this body. To be a human. And more and more, as the years go by, I am learning (very slowly) to love my body, my face, my gut, even my oddly deforming arthritic toes. It’s a fantastic thing to be a human. I’m seeing life as such a beautiful gift these days, and I am so grateful for all that I have. All that I am.

These days I wear what I want, and I don’t spend much time on a beauty routine– because that is what works FOR ME. Some people may find a long make-up session to be a meditative, transformative, fun experience, so if that’s the case, enjoy yourself and I won’t judge you for that. It has never been fun for me and I really suck at it. Some ladies (and men) have a gift and I admire their work. If it makes you happy, I applaud you and support you. Always. But if you are like me, and less is more, let your natural self shine. It really is ok.

It is my desire for us all to experience self-love and acceptance. I spent a large portion of my life in a sea of self-hatred, and I no longer wish to spend my time sinking. I’m now focusing on rising, because I realize how much better that feels. My soul wants to swim in an ocean of love, beauty, kindness, creativity and magic. Come swim with me! It’s more fun together. I promise.

Today I’m taking loving care of this body because it houses my soul, and that soul deserves a strong, healthy container. I take good care of myself because I want to get the most out of this glorious existence (and I want to live to be at least 95). My eyes have been opened to so much over the years and I am so grateful for an expanding mind and changing perceptions. My hope is that we all find self-love and create the lives we think we can only dream of. May we all be able to look in the mirror and love what we see. If you are reading this, YOU are beautiful. Apparently, God/the Universe/Source of All thought you needed to be here on this planet, so in my opinion, that makes you a divine creation– joyfully made and beautifully whole. Now stick that in your pipe and smoke it, you gorgeous thang!

(Yes, I am the world’s biggest dork, but I’m cool with it) 😉

P.S. I wrote this months ago, but never got around to posting it.