I don’t have perfect Instagrammable eyebrows. I’ve never used highlighter on my cheek bone (that’s where you put it, right?) My eyeliner game varies. I would try to wear lipstick more but my lips are too bitten (it’s a bad habit when I am either hungry, nervous, stressed… the list goes on). Sometimes my make-up looks good (by my standards), sometimes not.I paint my nails when I feel like it. Most of the time they are bare or chipped, and they are always short. I try to grow them but end up biting them all off.
I choose my clothes based on how I feel, rather than if they are on fleek. I can’t use the term on fleek without sounding like an imposter. I prefer wearing darker colours – most of my wardrobe is either navy, grey or black. I feel silly and too tall in heels.
My lips are too small to ever look like Kylie’s. So are my hips and bum. And boobs.
My tummy gets a little bigger looking when I sit down, when I’ve eaten too much, when I have a stomach ache. I guilty myself into feeling like I’ve gained a stone if I haven’t gone for a run in a week.
I can’t stick to one hair colour for very long – I’ve dyed it most colours; half black, dark brown, strawberry blonde, platinum blonde, lilac, pink, peach; I never like it for long enough to keep it. I’m trying to grow it out to my natural colour but I can’t even remember what that looks like anymore.
My face is several colours – pale with freckles, purple under-eye bags, pink cheeks and nose. Sometimes I try to cover it up with foundation but sometimes I simply can’t be bothered. My skin is incredibly sensitive and flares up even when using brands like Nivea. Apparently I should be using gluten-free make-up thanks to my Coeliac disease – that could be the underlying problem (which I will be correcting as soon as my order arrives).
I have a round nose, small ears, wide eyes and a pointy chin.
And yet – with all these things that make me feel too ashamed or embarrassed to post a selfie, I have to accept myself as I am.
Everybody is different and we cannot live our lives trying to be the same as somebody else. No matter how much of my diet I change, how much exercise I do, how much plastic surgery I might get – I’ll still never look exactly the same as an Instagram model. I might like similar, but not identical, and that is what would keep me up at night, that’s what would keep me insecure.
When comparing myself, insulting myself, or just generally feeling ashamed of my appearance, I will instead think about myself as a little girl. Would I ever say those things to her? No, never. So why say them to myself now?
I can only accept what I have. It’s written in my DNA. I can make myself healthier or unhealthier if I want to. I can try different make-up styles, different clothes and different hair (though I’ve been there, done that, as you can see above with the hair colour experiments). I can look like a different version of myself, but I’ll still be myself. I can’t be or look like anybody else apart from myself, and that is the thing that I need to accept.
So yes, I will be posting that selfie (probably).