Beauty

Apples and Oranges

/ Roxie / 3 Comments

Here’s the situation: I know comparison is the thief of contentment and for that reason we’re not supposed to compare ourselves or our lives to other people, but what if the person we’re comparing ourselves to is just ourselves?  Could that really be as bad?

I take really good care of my stuff.  Always have.  I think it’s a practice my parents instilled in me as a kid because we didn’t have a lot of money, so when you got something, you took care of it, but it’s a practice that was emphasized in me as an adult when I found myself in mountains of debt.  When you’ve learned the value of a dollar the hard way, and worked your butt off to get out of debt and save for what you have, you gain a newfound appreciation for your purchases and as such, you take care of them!  Yes, I’m debt free now and have some savings, but that doesn’t mean I’m suddenly going to start being careless with my stuff just because I can afford to!

My iPhone 8 from 2018 still looks as new as the day I got it.  Same with my iPad Air from 2013.  I could go on a vacation for what it would cost me to replace them and I’d rather do that than fork over any more money to Apple, so I treat them like my first born!  You can snoop through my kitchen cupboards and you’ll find that the bakeware I purchased nearly 5 years ago all still looks like new too.  I didn’t buy brand new items to have them immediately get that sticky baked on residue from using a non-stick spray!  (Ironic isn’t it?)  It’s all about the parchment paper for me.  Similarly, I take really good care of my clothes as well.  Cold water, gentle cycle, no dryer, sometimes even hand wash (but not often!).  Because I take such good care of my clothes, I also end up hanging onto them for a lot longer than I realized…

Fat Guy in a Little Coat

Every 6 months or so, I go through my closet and drawers, pull out all of the items that I haven’t worn in at least a year and do a fashion show for myself so I can make piles to take to the thrift store or to consignment.  There are pieces though, that I try on every single time and despite how rarely I wear them, I continue to hang onto them.  Dresses for instance.  I have a bunch of dresses from Christmas parties past or weddings I attended that I keep, because when that one, random, formal event pops up, you just might need them and why buy a new dress when you already own a bunch?!  Same goes for vacation clothes.  Where I live in Canada, I rarely need clothes for a hot climate, but when I go on a vacation, I suddenly need the shorts and tank tops and sundresses that I accumulated from previous vacations, so I can’t get rid of those either!  Unfortunately, my semi-annual fashion show purge usually ends in tears and self-loathing and vows that I’ll never eat sugar again and that I’ll work out 7 days a week, all because the clothes I’ve committed to hang onto, don’t fit like they used to!  The party dresses used to zip up all the way and drape and flow, but they’re not doing any of that anymore!  The shorts used to have extra thigh room, but now my thighs look like sausages desperately trying to escape their casing.

Last year in the purge I decided it was time to invest in a new fall coat, because the one I had was getting a little tight.  This decision wasn’t without a lot of anger that my coat used to be cute and loose and now I could barely zip it up if I had any layers on underneath.  Exactly when did I get so “thick”?!  I wanted more reasons to justify the purchase so I tried to remember how many years I’d been wearing that coat to assure myself I’d gotten my money’s worth out of it.  I figured it had only been a couple, but was surprised when I realized – I bought that coat in 2008!  That’s 12 years I wore that coat.  TWELVE YEARS!  Of course it didn’t fit anymore!  That is a long time and a lot of life happens in a 12 year span!  Then I started to think about the dresses and vacation clothes that get me so upset every time I re-try them on.  Some of the vacation clothes I’ve been hanging onto for at least 8 years and a few of those party dresses are from over 15 years ago!  Why do I expect myself to be the same size I was 8 years ago? 12 years ago? over 15 years ago even?

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Me vs. Me

Now that I’m older, I try not to compare myself physically to other girls anymore.  There’s just no point – I’m not them.  I have different genetics and a different metabolism and things that formed me that are outside of my control.  Plus, I already know that I wouldn’t be comparing myself to women my age anymore, because our lives look so different and I don’t feel the same age as them, so I’d be comparing myself to women in my stage [of life] and by now, those women are a good 10 to 20 years younger than me.  It’s just a fact that I biologically can’t keep up with them because I’m already so far beyond them, so it’s not even fair to compare myself!  All I can, or should focus on, is me and I feel like I’ve done pretty well, given what I had to work with – just look at old photos of me! Of course there are still things that I’d love to “modify” (*ahem* this nose), but short of spending thousands and thousands of dollars, I can’t change much else.  I’ve slowly come to accept that this is the way God made me and me alone.  Now when I look in the mirror though, the only person I’m caught up comparing myself to, is my former self.

Remember how you never used to have fat spilling out above and below your bra band, and you didn’t even know chubby armpits were a thing?  Remember when you used to wear shorts because the backs of your legs weren’t riddled with cellulite and you didn’t have any varicose veins?  Remember when your skin was taut and smooth and now it’s tired and wrinkly?

Before I go on, I want to be clear about something because I don’t want to sound insensitive and piss a bunch of people off (which seems inevitable in 2021 anyway).  I know that I’m not actually “fat”.  And while I complain about the extra inches I’ve accumulated, there are people who have serious struggles with their weight and my extra inches might be their goal inches.  And I know how gross it feels when someone who has no right to say anything complains about their size.  It’s like, first of all – screw you and second, ‘if you think you’re fat, then what does that make me?’.  That’s not how I want to make anyone feel when I say these things.  All I want to get across is that FOR ME, what I am now, compared to what I used to be and the size that I used to buy and the clothes in my closet that used to fit and my “normal” that I maintained for most of my life until the last couple of years, is bigger.  FOR ME!  And many people I meet assume I’m about 10 years younger than I am and I actually do think I look better than I ever have, but at the same time, when I look in the mirror, I’m seeing the lines and my skin getting looser and compared to what I used to see, I am so much older.  These are the constant comparisons I’m making now; me vs. me.  And these changes over time, even though most of which are natural and inevitable as you age, make me so angry with myself, as if stopping their progression was somehow in my control!  So why do I have this expectation of myself to be the same as I always was?

This **** is Bananas, B-A-N-A-N-A-S

I think it’s maybe because my life hasn’t changed at all in 20 years, that I think I shouldn’t have changed at all in 20 years either.  It’s ok for other women, because they’ve lived.  Their grey hair and their wrinkles have been earned through the joys and the stresses of having a husband and a family.  They’re allowed to have outgrown their clothes and have stretch marks, because they’ve grown humans INSIDE of them!  I haven’t done those things.  I haven’t merited my changes.  I’m still trying to accomplish those things (minus the babies)!  And like I said above, instead of being in that stage with other women my age, now I’m in that stage with women half my age.  I might not be comparing myself to them anymore and I know I can’t keep up with their youthful beauty, but I am, unfortunately, competing in the same market as them.  I guess I feel like, if I could stay the same size I was and have a face without wrinkles, then maybe I’d have a fighting chance, but the reality is, my circumference slowly continues to increase with middle age and I’m only going to get older looking from here on out, so if I couldn’t find a spouse when I was younger…smaller…tauter…how do I expect to find one now?  Nobody buys their fruit over ripe.  They’d rather it be under ripe so they have more time with it and can enjoy it when it’s perfect.  Maybe I’ve crossed over into brown banana territory where my only use now is to go in the freezer to make banana bread later?

Glory Days

It’s not just comparing myself physically that’s a problem either.  I’m crazy nostalgic, so some days I’m “triggered” by a song or a scent or the weather and I get caught up comparing my present to my past.  I’ll remember the summer road trips with friends to nowhere in particular or the spontaneous dinners and get togethers we had.  I look back on just the level of hope and anticipation I maintained thinking “maybe today will be the day that…my miracle happens/everything changes/I meet someone…!”, or whatever it was.  It felt like the world was at my fingertips!  Compare that to my every day, here and now reality, and it feels like that world somehow slipped through my fingertips.  Then I start to spiral as I wonder if life will ever be that fun or feel as carefree again, or if the best really is still yet to come or if this present is also my future?  This is about the time that I start to have a mini panic attack, complete with short, labored breaths, uncontrollable tears and a complete sense of dread about life!  But no, comparing ourselves to ourselves couldn’t be that bad…

Stay in Your Lane

Comparison is the death of joy.

– Mark Twain

The death of joy.  The thief of contentment.  Whichever!  I would say it’s pretty clear that YES, comparing ourselves to ourselves is just as bad.  It doesn’t matter who you compare yourself to, comparison is always going to leave you feeling the same way; envious, depressed, lacking, entitled, robbed of something, etc.  Don’t look around and don’t look back!  Don’t compare yourself to anyone else, because you’re not them and you don’t know what they went through to get where they are and don’t compare yourself to your former self, unless it’s to see how far you’ve come.  You’re not who you were yesterday and tomorrow you won’t be who you are today!

Oh, and take my advice – promptly get rid of any clothes that make you feel bad about yourself!

Filtered

/ Roxie

Here’s the situation: I feel like we try to win the approval of others by showing them a filtered version of ourselves, yet we want the real version of them.  So why do we think they wouldn’t want the same thing from us?

I have no idea how to use Snapchat the way it’s intended.  I think that officially makes me old.  I mean, I know how to look at the filters and I think I even know how to send a snap, but when it comes to anything else, I’m lost.  I’m lost and frankly, I don’t actually care.

I downloaded the app a few years ago after a Christmas party when a coworker was showing me the different filters.  I thought it was the funniest thing, but I’ve never actually used it like one should and I’ve considered getting rid of it, but… the filters… they’re just too good!  Does anybody else wish they naturally looked like their Snapchat self too?  I’m sorry, but I am bea•u•ti•ful with Snapchat!  My skin is flawless and taut and glows.  My eyes are big and sparkly.  My hair is it’s blondest blonde.  I am a freaking hottie when filtered!  Unfortunately, when I accidentally flip back to the normal camera lens, the reflection catches me off guard like, Buzz, your girlfriend.  Woof.

buzz

I Dunno If I Should Go With XX Pro or Valencia.  I Wanna Look Tanned.

As much as I wish I looked like my Snapchat self, I try not to post photos using it that often.  Sure, you’ll find the occasional one where the addition of hipster glasses and freckles were too cute not to use, but even the more natural filters without a prop are still a total misrepresentation of what I actually look like!

Now, before I start running my mouth about being filtered, maybe I should clarify some things.  An Instagram “filter”, though technically a filter, really only changes the lighting/brightness, etc., so I am not opposed to using them to improve the photo or the way you look in the photo (while completely ignoring what everyone else looks like).  It’s when you use filters or apps to tweak your actual appearance, that I start to have a problem, especially if you’re trying to pass it off like that’s really you!  If I know you in real life and have seen your forehead wrinkles and deep pores, but all of your photos have this smooth, softened, porcelain skin … gurl please!  (And/or boy please! I know some of you guys do it too!)  Trust me, I get it, I prefer to see myself filtered as well, but it’s all getting to be a little too fake when everyone claims to want authenticity.

E-I-E-I-O

Ever heard the saying “if the barn needs painting – paint the barn”?  Well, this barn requires a fresh coat every morning.  I love when people ask me “why do you get up so early?” or “how come it takes you so long to get ready?”.  Uhhhh, because this, (imagine me pointing to my face and drawing a circle around it with my finger), takes time!  I wear a full face of make up 7 days a week and I constantly chase my own version of perfection*, so I should be the last to have anything to say about how fake we’ve become, but in spite of my own desire to be considered beautiful by today’s standards, I can also see how today’s standards of beauty have become very one dimensional.

* Read about it in The Pursuit of Perfection

Stepford Wives

I don’t know what your Search & Explore feed looks like on Instagram (that’s the page with the magnifying glass icon, in case you didn’t know it had a name), but mine is mainly food, make up, fitness people, Bachelor/ette cast members and for some strange reason, a lot of Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir photos.  I don’t know why – I don’t search or follow either of them!  (Don’t get me wrong, I do love them!)  Dispersed throughout these photos are usually ones of pretty girls in really cute outfits.  Sometimes they’re those same fitness people showing off their style outside of the gym and sometimes it’s some random #fashionblogger or verified “influencer” I don’t know but likely has ties to the Bachelor world.  I don’t fully understand the algorithm, but because these are the photos I see, I’ve noticed that most of these girls are completely interchangeable!  They’re all stick thin (yet claim to eat tacos all the time), have super long hair, usually platinum blonde with beautiful waves, they have full eyelashes and they all wear the exact same outfits; an oversize knit sweater tucked into their faded blue skinny jeans which are cut just above their ankle boots or a t-shirt with another shirt tied around their waist.  If you’ve ever seen them, you can easily picture them.

I’m a middle aged women being infiltrated with these images and when I see them, I think – awww man, I need to lose 30 lbs, buy a new wardrobe and get some work done in order to be beautiful.  Imagine the message for someone half my age and twice as impressionable.  Is it really any wonder that “pretty” is all starting to look the same?  I mean, if this is the mainstream image and what we identify as beautiful, we will likely pattern ourselves after it.  And to what extent are we willing to go?

I saw a TV special once about Asians who want to look more ‘American’ and take extreme measures to do so.  For instance, getting plastic surgery in order to create a creased eyelid or even worse, “stature lengthening”!  Heard of it?  Brace yourself.  Your tibia and fibula are broken and a lengthening rod is inserted into the cartilage which gradually pulls the bones apart.  The body’s natural healing response is to grow new bone to close the gap, potentially giving you an extra 2-3″ of height over a 5 month stretching/healing period.  Are you cringing yet?!

It’s really unfortunate that as we chase worldly beauty to gain acceptance, we lose the beauty of our individuality and uniqueness.

You’re a Fake and a Phony and I Wish I’d Never Laid Eyes on You

I’m curious to know if men realize that the majority of girls they see and find attractive, are probably not real.  Heck, I’m a girl and up until a year ago, I didn’t even realize that most of what I saw wasn’t real!  If I saw a girl with super long hair, I assumed it was hers, because back when I had super long hair, I grew it myself!   I had NO idea that most of the girls you see with hair anywhere past the middle of their backs were BUYING it!  I would ask girls with thick and full eyelashes what mascara they used so that I could get those same lashes, only to find out they were BUYING eyelash extensions.  So many beautiful features women have are purchased!  Perfect eyebrows → microbladed.  Pouty lips → injected.  Teeth → whitened.  Breasts → implants.  Tan → sprayed.  Nails → fake.  Fake, fake, fake.  Bought, bought, bought.

hair3

Here I am, 16 years ago, with my very own, naturally grown, super long hair.  Oh, and Mr. Big from Sex and the City.  NBD.

Lately culture is spreading the gospel of body positivity and being yourself, loving yourself and having a healthy self esteem, which is great!  However, it seems like the majority of women are continuing to purchase all of these things!  It’s a bit of a confusing message isn’t it?  Like, you’re posting a #nomakeupselfie with some inspirational caption to empower other women about their natural beauty, but you have tattooed eyebrows, lash extensions and Botox – of course you’re confident without make up!  And let me stress – no hate on you!  I’ve paid for my own things in order to feel beautiful and will continue to do so also!  I’m not a martyr!

I’m Sexy and I Nose It

We all have that one thing (or twenty) that we dislike about ourselves.  At nearly 41, I can look in the mirror and think that I’m an attractive girl, more so than I could any year prior, which is weird since I’m just getting older, wrinklier and continuously gaining that middle age spread.  I see the full package of awesomeness that I am, but my focus?  Straight to my nose.  I’ve hated it EVERY DAY since grade 7.  I think it started the day a teacher made us trace our side profiles using the shadow from an overhead projector, then cut them out and post them around our classroom.  Thank you for that, Mrs. McCullough…

Most of the time I forget that this is the nose attached my face, but as soon as I catch a glimpse of it in the mirror or see it in a photo, I am reminded that as much as I try to fine tune the rest of me, I will always have this.  I’ve often wondered if it wasn’t the thing that kept me single too.  When I finally saved enough money to buy my condo, I seriously considered putting that money towards rhinoplasty instead.  I weighed my options: do I buy a condo and have a big nose or do I buy a small(er) nose and be homeless?  Well, I wouldn’t be homeless.  I could’ve lived with my mom, but if I was worried that my nose was keeping me single, I think moving home to my mommy at 36 would’ve done a pretty good job of that instead!

As much as I hate the central focal point of my face, I think I’m starting to accept that it’s part of what makes me me.  Maybe it even makes me stand out, good or bad.  No press is bad press, right?  All of those girls whose looks are interchangeable – they’re beautiful, but there’s really nothing memorable about them.  Do you know who is memorable though?  Barbara Streisand.  Lea Michele.  Sarah Jessica Parker.  Chelsea Peretti.  Lady Gaga.  The girls without the button noses.

Shake What Your Mama Gave Ya

Conventional beauty is one-note and can be achieved by anyone with enough money or enough apps.  I know I’ll never look like those stick thin, taco eating “influencers” of Instagram, but I think if you really want to be influential, you need to be yourself!  And if yourself requires a little bit of barn painting, that’s ok.  More people can identify with a painted barn that’s real, than a fake or filtered one!  People want the real you and will admire the real you for – you got it – your realness!  We all fall prey to the comparison trap, but don’t do the world a disservice by being anything less than the individual beauty you were created to be.  The world needs you, JUST AS YOU ARE.

Your need for acceptance can make you invisible in this world.  Don’t let anything stand in the way of the light that shines through this form.  Risk being seen in all of your glory.

– Jim Carrey

The Pursuit of Perfection

/ Roxie / 3 Comments

Here’s the situation:  I cried at the orthodontist office once.  In front of him, the hygienists and the surrounding 12 year olds, all because my smile was not exactly how I would like it.  Oh yeah, this was like a month ago…

shallow-hal-cuckoo

Inner Beauty, Schminner Beauty

I was a late bloomer.  I’m talking, late.  My awkward stage started around 4 years old and lasted well until I was 23.  As a kid, we didn’t have a lot of money and my mom was crafty, so for years I wore homemade clothes, usually from fabrics found in the bargain bin (which are the ugliest fabrics they make!).  I needed glasses starting in grade 2 and my mom doesn’t wear make up, so that was something I had to teach myself through trial and error, because there were no YouTube how-to videos when I was a teen – there was no internet!  Boys were not interested in me in junior high or high school; they always wanted one of my pretty friends and I didn’t have my first kiss until I was 19 or my first official DTR boyfriend until I think, 23.

Through those awkward years I absorbed a lot of subconscious messages.  The main one: the most important thing to guys is physical beauty.  Some of the messages were less subconscious and more verbal.  I had a crush on a guy and his best friend politely told me “I don’t think you have a chance, you’re not really his type.”, which we all know actually means, he’s not attracted to you.  Another crush’s friend told me how the guy wouldn’t date me because “he only dates models.”

I was adamant for many years that “I shouldn’t need to conform to society’s standard of beauty and have long hair and contacts in order to be attractive“, but when I finally came out on the other side of the awkward stage and began attracting men, it was because I grew long hair and got contacts.  Thus, confirming the message that physical beauty was the most important thing.  Since my first taste of finally feeling/being attractive, I swore I would never go back and so began the quest to perfect myself.

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Ages 17, 19, 21 & 24

You’re Not Ugly, Just Poor

You can change pretty much anything about yourself for the right amount of money and my motto is: if I can afford it, I’m doing it!  And I have.  It started with growing my hair and getting contacts and has been simple things like working out, being blonde, changing my make up, updating my wardrobe.  Then it evolved.  I had electrolysis to get rid of unwanted hair and microblading to give me wanted “hair” (what we women won’t do!).  I got Invisalign a few years ago and did an additional 6 months of refinement trays last fall to try and get one tooth straighter.  ONE TOOTH!  In turn, it shifted my bite and in a few weeks I start another month+ of refinements to adjust that!  I looked into laser eye surgery, which I’m not a candidate for unless I decide to go with an implantable contact lens and I even looked into rhinoplasty, but I can’t afford it…and if you’ve ever watched a surgery, it’s hor·ri·fy·ing!

Eyes on the “Prize”

An ex and I used to debate whether I would get done up for myself or to impress others.  Here’s what you should know about me.  I am not a natural beauty and I can only handle seeing my bare-faced reflection in the mirror for so long.  24 hours is plenty.  Even if I have no reason to put make up on for a few days and I won’t be seeing anyone, around day 2, it’s going on, just so that I can feel attractive!

I’ve been reading a book my friend lent me and timely enough, the other night I came across a chapter about perfection and who we do it for.

It is deeply baked within our feminine history to be favored, as a woman, based on our look, status or dowry.  Back in the day, if you were the more beautiful woman, you got the man.  If your family had the riches, you got the man.  If your family was in a higher echelon, you got the man.  And the man was the prize; he provided for you, gave you children and made you “worthy”.

– Cara Alwill Leyba, Like She Owns the Place

I always want to look my best and when I look my best, I feel my best and when I feel my best, I’m my most confident self, so I will continue to defend that I get done up for myself.  However…there’s also no denying an underlying incentive!

Hey There Delilah

I’d never considered just how deep the roots of those messages about physical beauty went until I found myself crying at the orthodontist over already perfect teeth.  Then this week, I had to cut my hair.  In all my years of bleached hair and hot irons, I’ve never experienced a “breakage cut” like the one I arrived to my stylist with.  I knew I was going to have to cut off some decent length in order to make it even and it was a pretty big deal to me.

I’ve often joked that my hair is my only redeeming quality and while I know that’s not true, I feel like Samson; it gives me strength.  It is my identity.  I’m the girl with the long hair or the friend with the great hair.  I’ve even been told by strangers that I’m #hairgoals.  My hair gives me a little something to set me apart and it’s usually the first thing to turn a man’s head.  I’ve actually never thought it was anything more than just my hair that’s attracted men, so I’ve always feared if I cut it, I will just be an average, overlooked girl.  For me, cutting my hair symbolizes giving up.  Letting myself go.  Succumbing to being a spinster.  Even worse, what if this breakage turns out to be age or hormones and I can’t grow it back anymore like I once could and I have to keep cutting it shorter and shorter and then I look like 19 year old me again?  Gross!  Where will my strength come from then?!

Welcome to the irrational panic of someone in pursuit of perfection.

Outer Beauty, Schmouter Beauty?

I now fully understand these women who get too much plastic surgery and end up looking like a cat.  I’m sure that was never their original intention.  They probably started out just like me; wanting to improve themselves, little by little.  Then one day, it was one procedure too far.  We can try all we want to perfect our flaws and even though the outside might be disguised, it’s obviously something much deeper and internal that needs the work.  It’s a heart issue.  So where you do draw the line and decide to be content?  How do you go from feeling like maybe just one more tweak will help you achieve whatever your “prize” is, to loving yourself, just as you are?

“You can lift your eyelids, but it can’t lift that little cloud of pessimism that hovers over you.”

– Dr. Frasier Crane, Frasier, S1E18

I don’t think the drive to want to improve ourselves is entirely bad.  When focused correctly, it’s that drive that helps us set (and keep) goals and encourages us to make changes that benefit the health of our lives; emotionally, financially, spiritually, etc.  So maybe the next time we (or maybe it’s just me?) get lost in the downward spiral of perfection, we should consider that we are our own prize and the next tweak we might need to make is a heart transplant.  If that’s not enough to convince you, then you can always tell yourself 3 little words from the same book I mentioned before: “Perfection is Bull****.”