It's March! And for those of you who don't know this, I was born in March. So, since this is my birth month, I would like to dedicate my blog posts to growing up. To be honest, I didn't choose to grow up, yet here I am, turning 27 in several days. 27! What kind of number is that? At least it's better than 26, I'll tell you that. We should all vote to skip our 26th year.
Anyway, this March I will be writing about things we learn growing up. So, welcome to another blog post about life (as if I have a clue). But just as always, I'm only trying to figure everything out and am writing about things I know. And I know this much: loving yourself isn't easy.
When I was younger I had a handful of insecurities caused by the way other girls looked. Don't we all? Back in my days, social media wasn't a thing yet. Facebook had just started getting popular and we didn't have the entire planet to compare ourselves to, thankfully. Thigh gaps weren't invented and Kim Kardashian was unheard of. So my insecurities might seem weak today, but to me, it was what I saw when I looked in the mirror. One of my insecurities was being the only white kid in class. Long story. Growing up, I was one of the few white kids I knew and I always wished my skin was darker, so I could blend in, and no one would know I'm European. Another insecurity I had was my ears. I felt terrible for having "big ears" and was embarrassed to keep my hair up in a bun. I had my ears covered at all time so no one could see them.
My hair color was something that bothered me later in life. It was weird. When I was a teenager people found it difficult to point out exactly what color my hair was. And besides that I always hated that it got darker as I grew up. I thought it was unfair my sister got to keep the bright blond hair we were born with and mine turned dark blond.
Belly button, thighs, brows, arms, armpits, shoulders, nose. I could list all the things I found "wrong" on me, but I shall stop here and explain how I came to accept them all. It's not much of a motivational story, though. It's just a story. And it's how I came to terms with my natural self. Everyone experiences life in a different way.
Truth is, I can't stand the heat. I hate hot weathers. And the summer of 2010, when I was 16, was unbearably hot. I wanted to wrap my hair in a bun but hesitated. What if someone saw my ears? I thought I was going to faint. The heat was insufferable however, so it wasn't much of a choice. I looked around, took a deep breath and I tied my hair in a bun and kept it there for the rest of the summer. I was so hot it turned out I didn't care if anyone was going to look at my ears. And by the end of the summer I realized no one really cared. Other than a couple of bullies who were calling me Dumbo in middle school, nobody else cared. And since then, I never cared again myself.
That was the first step to accepting my face, my body, my everything. On a superficial level, of course. Accepting who you are on the outside is the first step to accepting yourself. Coming to terms with your natural self is one of the most important things you can do for yourself. Loving yourself isn't easy, especially when we live in a society full of beauty experts willing to judge everyone. But keep in mind these experts know nothing and most of all they don't know you.
Over the course of the next ten years I've learned to accept more of me. I don't tan, I stopped dying my hair, I pluck my eyebrows the way I want them, and I've never had anything done. I feel kind of sad when a 23-year-old has Rhinoplasty or Botox. No one should get this kind of surgery or injections at 23. But what do I know? I'm just an old lady worn out by the passing of the seasons.
As the years go by, I care less about how other people view me. And the less I care, the more confident I become. I have come to realize that confidence is a major component of expression. When you're confident, you are more of yourself. But confidence is another chapter I am not willing to open right now.
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