Wednesday, Mar. 09, 2005
Living in a Superficial World
Maybe I'm way too superficial, or perhaps I'm just really, really insecure....
Everyone always says that it's what's on the inside that counts but clearly, that's not always true.
From my earliest memories, I can picture painting my fingernails and toenails, trying on different outfits, wearing my mother's shoes as I played dressup, and styling my younger sister's hair. I've always been such a 'girl'. In gym class I was one of those girls who hid behind the bleachers so I wouldn't have to participate. I was the one who stood way, way, way in the outfield during softball and hoped that the ball wouldn't get hit to me. Never have I liked being outdoors and getting dirty. I'd much rather be inside, warm, dry and doing 'girly' things.
While I was in third grade, I learned how to french braid my own hair. From then on, I no longer wanted my mom to do my hair for me, I wanted to do it myself. I begged her to let me get my hair layered or cut short. She said no until I was in 6th or 7th grade because she thought that I wasn't going to take care of my hair. "You'll have to style it everyday. It won't look right if you let it down and don't curl it."
That's when the majority of it started. When I say 'it', I am referring to my constant worrying about how I look.
The clothes that I wear must be in style and I must think that they look half decent on me. Sometime during 6th or 7th grade I realized that I hated the clothes I was wearing and started dressing up more. I hardly ever leave the house without putting on makeup either. Can you believe that I only own one pair of sneakers (clog sneakers - - Skechers)? The rest of my shoes consists of heels, high heels, and higher heels. I'm really short (5 ft. 1) though so I need some heighth.
:::NOT relevant to this entry at all .....but does anyone remember the song that goes 'I wish I were a little bit taller, I wish I were a balla, I wish I had a girl if I did, I would call 'er. I wish I had a rabbit and a hat and a bat and a '64 Impalla'....I thought of that when I mentioned in the above paragraph that I was short.:::
Anyway ....
Up until I was 19, I would wear makeup for dances, church, prom and any other special occasion. Once I wore makeup to a party, then to work the next morning because I didn't get any sleep that night. Ever since then I felt it necessary to wear it all of the time except for when I sleep. I seriously feel naked without it. I also hate how my face looks when it isn't painted in eyeshadow, mascara and esp. eyeliner. I would have a fit my eyes weren't lined. For me, makeup is a must.
Lately I haven't been as happy with my looks as I've been in the past. When I used to get ready to go out, I felt good about myself; or comparable to everyone else at least. I've come to notice that I'm beginning to hate how I look more and more each day. This all has to do with my attitude and self esteem, I know. But why is my self esteem going down when it is supposed to be going up? I had more self esteem during middle school and high school than I have now. Aren't those years supposed to be the toughest yrs. growing up wise?
My old roommates are staying at our old apartment apparently. They're really starting to fix the place up too. Adam and I were talking about it last night, saying that it's kind of stupid to put the money into fixing the place up when they're only probably going to be living there for another year. We got to talking about how one day Adam would like to move. So would I...kind of. First, I'd like my financial situation to be a little more stable, which I told him so and he understands. I also told him that I wouldn't mind having a different career by that time. He would also like to have another job. But then he said,"I'd like bartending in a big city where I'd get $100.00 tips."
A good girlfriend would have been happy, encouraged that, and supported him 100%. Afterall, if that's what would make him happy, then I should be happy for him. Instead, I got all quiet, slumped down in the front seat of the car and started thinking. He asked what was wrong and I replied,"I don't think I could handle you working in a place like that. I'd be too jealous." "Do you think I look like Brad Pitt or something? You'd have to worry that much?", he teased. Then he told me that I was the only girl he loved and would ever want to be with. He tried to pull me towards him to kiss me, but I pulled away, hitting my head on the window.
All I could think about was my boyfriend working at an upscale club with thousands of people coming to the bar for their cocktails. Actually, I shouldn't say that I was thinking about people; I should be more specific and say that I was thinking about the girls. I come from a small town so the population of pretty girls is a little sparce. But in a big city there would be so many girls who were more beautiful than I am and it would really upset me. He's a guy, so it would be in his nature to ogle them. I'd absolutly hate it.
For the past few months I haven't even liked picking up an issue of Cosmo or wanted to watch tv because of all the beautiful girls. In the media, there are beautiful people everywhere. Just pick up a magazine and you'll see. Or while you're driving home from work or school sometime, take a look at some of the billboards along side of the road. I see these things and wonder to myself,"Why can't I look like that? Why can't my legs look like hers? Why isn't my stomach flat like that model? Why can't my breasts be bigger?" I'm just constantly comparing myself to the girls and woman who seem to look perfect. I try not to think this way because I feel so pathetic and I know that it is, but yet, I can't help it that I'm not happy with my looks.
I was explaining this to Adam's friend Ben a couple of weeks ago. I told him that I want to get surgery someday. I'd get breast implants, lyposuction, botox, you name it. Anything to make myself look better. He asked me why I wanted surgery. I said,"Because there are so many girls who are prettier than I am." Ben goes,"Yeah, but at the same time, there is nothing wrong with how you look. You're a very pretty girl."
I know that Ben is right; "there is nothing wrong with the way I look", but why can't I believe him?