pretty just isn't pretty enough

I was told thin, pretty, feminine and pleasant.

But if I put the bold glammer filter on my face I look like prince charming from shrek.

When they asked what I wanted to be when I grew up: I wanted to be loved. And being loved meant having a man, and having a man meant being pretty – no, the prettiest. Anything less I would be unworthy of such love, it would be a fool’s errand. That is story I told myself – if I wasn’t pretty than I didn’t deserve or rather couldn’t be loved. What a fucking bullshit story that is.

Every single princess movie I consumed as a child told me I had to be beautiful to be chosen by a man and, like I said before, that meant being loved (also take note of the fact it was only a man…(bombastic side eye))Why would anyone love me if I wasn’t beautiful? I had to be beautiful. Because if I am not then I can’t be loved. And then I’ll be alone and unloved forever. I wouldn’t be the sleeping beauty in the story, but the “ugly” stepsister filled with scorn and spite.

But the step-sister was never actually “ugly.” It wasn’t how she looked that made her horrible, but it was her character and morals and words. And as we all know (should know) beauty is subjective, so this beauty standards model is flawed as fuck. One person could say this makes you beautiful and another will say something that entirely contradicts the first thing, you can’t win here, no one gets a prize.

And sure, I have masculine features, my cheeks grow chubby when I smile, my nostrils flare considerably when I laugh, I can never get my eyebrows to fit my face, the crease in between my brows is considerably noticeable (it’s not a cute frown), I have wrinkles on the edges of my eyes when I smile or laugh, my resting face is a resting bitch face, I pluck hairs on my chin and shave my four o’clock shadow every morning, one of my eyes is slightly lazy, my lips are dry, I do not look cute at all when I cry I wish I did but I more so resemble that of screaming goat with tears - need I go on?

I may not be the prettiest person in the room or even pretty at all, but that does not mean I don’t deserve or cannot be loved. Everybody can and deserves to be loved. If you also told yourself a similar story to me, stop. Just stop it. Beauty isn’t just face value, it is also your personality, your morals, your character. I’ve stopped trying or even attempting be the prettiest girl in the room. I’ve stopped trying to please everyone and just started letting myself be as I am. I still like to glam up and put on a cute fit from time to time, but that’s because I want to not because I am trying to impress or live up to someone else’s expectation of beauty. Do not allow the outdated notion that beauty is all women are good for, or beautiful is a requirement for what a woman needs to be to become the be all and end all. If you want to pay attention to your glam go for it, but do it for you, not because other people told you that you have to.

There are two things I have started saying when I feel insecure or like I’m lacking external beauty:

One, my face is an artwork.
Two, my body is a sculpture.

Some people see a painting and fall in love, others will see the same painting and think it’s a dot on a canvas. Loved by some, hated by others, ignored, glanced at, appreciated. Not everyone will see an artwork as beautiful, or even understand what it is. Some might think it’s boring, and others might just be curious, but I like the art, and that’s all that matters. Who chooses stick around and pay attention to the detail, or the underlying emotions and story within the canvas, well, that’s for them to decide. To some it will be meaningless, but to others it will mean the world. Pretty is never pretty enough, but I sure as hell can be a fine piece of artwork.

Moral of the story is that pretty really is never pretty enough, but you don’t have to be the prettiest person in the room to be loved or to be enough. You are already loved. I love you as you are. Appreciate the fine art of a human being that you are and always have been.

You are an artwork and sculpture.
And I love you for that. And so should you.

xoxo

Storytime: When I was a kid, my “friend” started laughing at me and said 'you look like the ugly stepsister' – and you know why? Because I had a freckle above my lip. Her mother snapped at her and asked her to apologise. She did. But I vividly remember the pain stabbing in my chest in that moment. I internalised that, and it has twisted its way into my subconscious and still haunts my dreams. I’m not kidding, I had a dream a few weeks ago where someone said 'your sister isn’t attractive, but she is useful.' Referring to me. This self-doubt about being loveable was even haunting my fucking dreams.

if this post was a song...