Body image in this country is at what appears an all time low. Some people are shining a light on it.
Ginger Snaap, from OhmyGawd! Just Do What I Say! put up a documentary from Dove. (Link pops in another tab.) It shows how warped our opinions of ourselves can really get.
Knowing I still had not written this post, I knew immediately from seeing that video where this one was headed.
As I have gotten older, I hear others’ opinions of my appearance less and less. A number of the people from Day 11 make a point to tell me I am beautiful. It gets a warm, yet wry, grin out of me, and I blush. I do not argue though. The same holds true when a complete stranger tells me this. One did on Sunday.
One of my beautiful daughters routinely laments not getting this or that feature of mine. I raise an eyebrow at her (one she thinks I should wax). When she was seen on a newscast recently, my friends picked her out before the station captioned her. My mother claims she fell from my nose…
No genetic intervention there.”
Long gone are the days when I was voted ugliest in my class. I did not argue then either. Why not? It is a matter of opinion. Yes, I am stalling. This post is supposed to be about my opinion.
The answer to the question has changed. In the past, I was far more concerned with the reflection I saw. Despite everyone around me with opposing opinions, mine was terrible. It took years for me to stop seeing in the mirror what truly was not there.
Even though I know better, every once in a while I still see something in the mirror no one else does. Those times are getting further apart. I know the box the package comes in gets thrown away.
Now I say…
I am comfortable with my appearance. Comfortable enough to be fresh-faced.
I have the occasional handful of pounds I would like to drop. I get determined, and I do. This often coincides with events where I would like to wear certain attire, of which I do not approve unless my figure fits inside appropriately.
I see the grey hairs. I cover them up. (Never pluck them. Seven more grow in their place.)
I have wrinkles. I earned them. I laugh often and have huge dimples. After spending 25 years having to show my identification to buy wine, it is nice for the teenager not old enough to sell it to me to no longer ask.
There is little about my appearance I would change other than my teeth. Given enough time and a sufficient number of trips to the dentist I found who has listened, I will have that all pulled out. No, not straightened out. I did the braces thing in high school. I cannot keep my teeth, so I am getting ahead of the game.
What I would change, however, is the damage on the inside. It will require a wand. Medical science is not prepared to repair what is beneath the skin.
Not too bad, if I do say so.
Are you comfortable in your own skin?
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