This is the final post I am writing for the August Writing Prompts. Instead of picking a particular prompt, I decided to mix and match them, in order to analyse my own thoughts on body issues and self-confidence. You may find a list of the prompts here
My first memory of being aware of my body took place in a bath tub a couple of decades plus some years ago. That was the time I told my mother that I was fat because my thighs were big.
She said I wasn't fat, besides being fat doesn't have anything to do with one's thighs, only the tummy.
I do not know where the idea and consciousness of being fat came from. My surroundings were not too obsessed with thinness. Not that I recall, at least.
I was more than a head taller than the other girls in my class. I have not grown a single centimeter since I was 11 years old and still, my ID card says that I am of average height.
My period started before I knew what it was.
I had no idea what happened to me and already then I was hiding within my shell, not wanting people to know about my thoughts and secrets. Writing about this topic is difficult because it is something I have never really wanted to talk about. All these years, I have somehow detached my body from my mind. The body is not really me. This detachment between mind and body was probably based on some type of survival instinct. Instead of having a body that the world would accept, I decided to develop my mind. A good idea, in theory. The problem with striving for perfection - whether it is physical or intellectual - is that one will never be quite good enough.
I know now that I am neither fat nor ugly. But for a long time I felt invisible. I still do, sometimes. Growing up with that feeling has made it difficult to socialize with people. I never felt the need to be called beautiful, and I do think that this is an unnecessary compliment. It is much nicer to be called intelligent. If I ever have a little girl, I would want her to appreciate such traits as kindness, intelligence, generosity and humbleness. Beauty is but a fleeing notion.
Sometimes I feel that I would like to be more daring about my appearance - to play with make-up, dress up and have more fun with fashion. One of my promises for self-pampering last week was to wear make-up, I actually did and it felt good. Who would not want to look like this:
In general, I'd rate my confidence as good. Or rather, I don't care too much of what others think. At the end of the day, we are responsible for our own happiness. Bad hair days don't exist if you don't let them. Having a decent level of self confidence does not mean that one is always happy and that everything is perfect, is more about accepting the imperfect self. Accepting the imperfections is also easier if appearance is not so important to begin with. Some people I know struggle a lot with their self confidence, and sometimes I just want to tell them that it is so much easier if one forgets about the rest of the world and focuses on oneself. At the same it is difficult to give anyone advice on matters like this one, because essentially self confidence comes from within.
Last but not least, I have one confession to make, I may feel OK with the way I look, but looking
better than OK is scary. By being wrapped in my own invisibility, I don't
need to feel people looking at me, I can go on with my own business in my own little bubble. So, if there is something I would like to "achieve" confidence-wise, it'd actually be the stretching of my own limits, to see how stunning I could actually be. Not because I'd have to, but because it'd be fun. Confidence, then, is more than just accepting and being happy about oneself, it is also about letting the world in.
