Tuesday, June 7, 2011

Measuring Up

I have a confession to make.  I was just looking at photos of my boyfriend's ex on Facebook.  And she's really really pretty.  Eek.

I don't know why I would torture myself like that.  Of course all I can think about now is how she's thinner than me, how her eyes are cuter, her smile is whiter, her cheeks don't pudge out like a four-year-old's.  Mine do.  I have chubby cheeks and a small chin.  I have bags under my eyes a lot of the time and my hair is usually not shiny.

Photo taken by my friend Christine.

Sometimes I take good photos, but it's rare.  Usually it's when there's odd lighting, or I'm really dressed up for a holiday.

My eyes look big here, right?  I'm eating a kiwano melon.

So of course I'm comparing myself to this mystery girl.  She seems nice...even if she can't spell.  But why?  What am I so afraid of?  I already know I'm not the very most gorgeous girl in the world.

Not me.

My boyfriend loves me, and I have lots of friends, and people still tell me I'm pretty on occasion.  Creepy guys even hit on me at bars.  Why am I so worried now?

I'll venture to say a large part of it is momentary panic over eating like an entire box of cookies tonight.  Tomorrow I might not feel so bad.  But I should never feel bad about how I look or who I am.  Neither should you.  I guess I started this post with the intention of saying something inspirational about how we should all love our bodies and go after our dreams and not worry about what other people think, but the truth is I'm still working really hard on that myself.  It's not easy, ladies.  I guess all I can ask is we support one another...

Oh!  I do have something semi-inspirational to write after all.  When I was in Paris a few years ago my roommate at the hostel one night was this fantastic Brazilian architect named Carolina.  We went out to a wine bar and talked shit about the Bush administration.

Also an okay photo with the awkward light.

Sometimes Carolina would bump the table or slosh her drink, but instead of apologizing she'd say "F*ck it!"  She did not care what other people thought.  She didn't mind that people were looking.  It was awesome.  So, dear readers, it sounds crass but: next time you feel like apologizing for something you shouldn't - your weight or your clothes or the time you dropped something - give the naysayers a F*ck It instead (or a Screw It if you're a lady.  I clearly am not).  Deal?


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