Life's Twisted Mirror

I try and live my life looking at myself in a positive light. When I wake up in the morning, I look in the mirror and I don't see perfection, but I see something beautiful. I see mistakes, I see flaws. I see a ribcage that looks like it could be a percussion instrument if you struck it with a mallet. I see a nose that may have been smacked a few times too many. I see my skin, my naturally pale skin, complete with bruise-like birthmarks decorating my right side. I see a permanent battle scar. I see imperfection.

In that imperfection, I see something to be proud of. As a woman, and as a human, I hear and see what REAL beauty is supposed to be. Slender, physically fit women with stick straight blond hair without an ounce of frizz. Faces with perfectly applied make-up, not a hair out of place, with form fitting clothes and killer shoes. Men, with tanned, chiseled bodies like Greek gods, with meticulously groomed facial hair and designer jeans... all for what? So a member of the opposite sex MIGHT someday utter, "My Lord, look at that beautiful man," or "She is SO gorgeous."

The sad thing is that we're RAISED to believe that what I listed above is the ideal, and not to recognize the beauty in the differences between people. Different bodies, hair colors, skin colors... looking beyond the physical appearance and seeing beauty in others.

I will be the first to admit that I am vain. I take good care of my face, and I use it to my advantage. It's not something I'm proud of, but that doesn't mean I can't be an adult and admit it. I know I'm slender, I know I have a pleasant appearance... but that does NOT mean I'm not just as insecure as everyone else.

If I'm going to be honest, I hate my nose. I hate the way my hips stick out like lethal weapons. I hate that because I'm petite, people assume I'm a child and no one takes any word that comes out of my mouth seriously. I hate that I can't reach the take-out boxes at my workplace, and that I have to ask for help to grab cereal off the shelves at the grocery store. I hate that I can't run a mile like everyone else without excruciating pain radiating through my knee caps.

Above everything else, I hate that because I'm stereotypically "pretty" on some occasions, that people assume that I'm stuck up. That I flaunt myself for attention. That I can't wear the same things others do because I'm showing off if I wear it.

There is beauty everywhere. I just wish that people didn't have to knock each other down in order to build their self-esteem up. Bullying doesn't stop after elementary school lunch, I'll tell you that much right now.

It's forever.