I just got done crying.
I could sit here and pretend that it's because of something major; a love one passed away, I had a stressful day, I just got into a fight with my girlfriend, but no: none of those reasons are why I just got done sobbing like a squalling newborn still drenched in my mother's innards. I just got done crying because I don't always feel pretty or liked.
Now, we can all sit here and pretend like we're all too grown to feel like that, or sh#t can get real for a second and we can cut the crap. I don't care how old you are, how much bullsh#t life has thrown at you and how much you have over come: we ALL have those days.
Those days where nothing fits right no matter how many sweaters you shrug over your broad shoulders, or jeans that you shimmy into just to find that they won't button, or tank tops you slither into like a snake just to end up looking like a busted sausage casing.Those days where friends leave you out of plans and even though ANY other time it doesn't bother you, today it makes you feel 13 all over again, sitting home alone on a Friday night while you're friends are at the mall.Those days where no matter how many people you logically know love you, you spend the entire day walking around feeling like you have the word "loser" rubber stamped to your forehead for the entire world to see. Those days where you feel so unpretty, uninteresting and unfunny you feel like you should have your own D List satire sitcom....until you remember that no one would watch, because you suck.
It's hard being a woman. Hell, a person.
There is so much pressure to be pretty, to be beautiful and there are so many f*cked up notions of what that means that the word "beauty," at least for this fat chick, has really lost most if not all of its meaning. I want to be beautiful. I want to feel beautiful all the time and I struggle so hard with finding what that really means. How does one become beautiful? I suppose it all begins by definition.
What is my definition of beautiful?
For me, being beautiful means expressing yourself, your true self to the world and not caring what any shmuck has to say about it. I can usually do that, but at the same time I can't. I like to express myself through my appearance, the clothing that I wear, but I don't have the means, the money, the resources to fully do that. I have a big, bold style. I am so inspired and influenced by Chastity Garner, Georgina Horne, Essie Golden, and Tess Holiday....but you would never know it. I can't afford to show it and it makes me really sad....
I could pretend it doesn't, but I would be lying through my slightly gapped teeth and that just isn't something I will do. My closet is a mix matched war zone of handmedowns, pulling my style in the direction of three different people, one of whom hurt me so badly but I needed the sweaters to help keep me warm through the winter.How can I feel confident, feel beautiful, feel like myself in clothing from someone who hurt me? Someone I don't speak to anymore.The other handmedowns are from my sister. Some of the pieces in my closet have successfully managed to survive the 90s. I love my sister, we grew up five to years apart from one another and although at ages 23 and 28, I can finally both love AND appreciate her; I am well past the age of wanting to be just like my "big sissy."
Then there is me...desperately trying to peak through, to take charge and command, to break through the hangers and kick a** and take names. I have pieces in my wardrobe that I'm really proud of. But not many. Which means that most of the time. I'm either smoking hot, or a socker mom in my Lane Bryant T3 jeans which fit hug my curves in the wrong way and my famed striped sweaters....because that was what I wore to the bar Sunday night. I told myself I didn't want to "get cute" to go to the bar on a Sunday but the second I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror I felt deflated.
Should I have put on a bodycon dress and some slinky heels? No, probably not, but I bet anything else would have made me feel better than what I ended up with. Am I saying that being beautiful is the only thing a woman should aspire to be? No, and if you get that from this then, please, I say this most sincerely: f*ck you...
What I am saying is that to every woman, man, genderless person out there who doesn't always feel the greatest about their looks, expression, likeability and certain social circles: you are not alone. I am right beside you. I am right with you when you are crying. I am right there with you when you feel like crap. I am here and I will love you if you let me, and we can feel like sh#t together so long as we remember one thing.
This pain that we feel is only temporary. We are all beautiful. So let's stick together so we can always remember that.
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