Thoughts and Battles with Beauty

SO, here's something I've not written about much, and something I feel really uncomfortable writing about. But here goes!

As a female, it’s almost silly to take up valuable time saying that I’ve had a lot of issues coming to terms with my looks, but (as luck would have it) I tend to be silly. There’s been a lot of alteration of how I view myself as viewed by others in the past few weeks, hence me wanting to write about it. (Let’s ignore how horribly that was phrased, shall we?)

Ever since I was relatively young, I’ve had a very complex way of looking at myself. On the one hand, I know how incredibly blessed I am to be relatively pretty – there are no deformities, no ridiculous scars, nothing that really makes me stand out of a crowd. For that I am incredibly grateful, and every time that I decide to think poorly of myself, I pull that thought forward.

On the other hand, until recently I’ve never thought of myself as being good-looking, or having anything more than a plain appearance. I decided when I was younger that I didn’t want to do the whole ‘makeup’ thing, as it’d be hiding what I really look like behind a layer of paint. This continues to befuddle some people, and I’m more flexible about wearing it when the occasion calls for it, but it’s infrequent at best.

Another, possibly unexpected, deference mechanism that helps me not deal with my looks is… *drumroll please* …my hair. I have magnificent, ridiculously long hair, and I love it. And for years, I’ve unconsciously used it as a sheltering technique – I have viewed my hair as that ‘one thing’ that sets me apart from others. Without it, as far as I was concerned, I’d be invisible. Now, while it does indeed set me apart from the majority of the population, I never truly understood the degree to which I depended on my hair for validation as a girl/woman/human/etc.
Over the past year, partially out of convenience and partially due to the fact that I just wanted a change of pace, I’ve been wearing my hair up (whereas I used to let it stay down and out of control). I’ll vary between braids and headbands, but most days see me with my hair wrestled away into a bun. A strange thing occurred during this transition – I’ve started getting complimented on my looks, as opposed to my hair.

Disclaimer: I don’t want to sound big-headed about this. It’s not that I’m lauding myself on being noticed – the point I’m trying to make is that I am, and have consistently been, >surprised< by this.

I only really noticed about a month or so ago, and it rocked my world when I realized that someone might actually consider me to be good looking. Blew. My. Mind. The fact that I would be noticed, that I would stand out or be seen by others, without my hair being the focal point of their attention still has me staggered. It’s something I can’t really wrap my head around, probably because I don’t see myself that way – I continue to see myself as the plain, plump little girl that I’ve been for the past 23 years, and I’ll probably continue doing so.

Another catalyst in this whole mental-explosion was a guy telling me about a month ago that he finds me beautiful.
Now, any guy worth his salt knows that to make his lady happy, he needs to compliment her and mean it. (Ladies, you too!) I’ve been blessed with several very sweet guys in my life that did everything they could to make me believe that I am what they saw – their pretty girlfriend/date/friend/’person they associate with’. And while I’ve trained myself to be much better at taking a compliment, until Mr.C (for Catalyst) came along I did not believe it. Not a once.
Somehow, however, over the course of one weekend, I felt prettier and more loved - hell – beautiful – than I’d ever done in the rest of my life combined. I don’t know what it was that convinced me. Was it said differently? Was the chemistry just right? Was it that special smile or lingering breath that won me over?

I have no idea.

All I know is, my mind was, and continues to be, completely blown by the notion that he’d find me pretty. 

Now, to be fair, I don’t know what I can do with the information, aside from be more grateful for what I’ve been blessed with. It’s one of the biggest shifts in self-worth I’ve had about myself recently, and continually surprises me when it’s called to mind. And now when I’m complimented, though I still have the pessimistic and evil voices in my head screaming at me that all I’m hearing are kind lies, I have another, kinder voice telling me to believe and thank them.

I’m still in the transition mode of being surprised by the notion every time it hits me – but I feel blessed that I have begun to look in the mirror and react with gratefulness, as opposed to wishing to see someone else.

Thank you, Mr.C.