Journey in Self Acceptance

21 11 2012

I know that other people find me attractive.  But I’m not entirely sure that I do. At least, not really until recently have I begun to truly look at myself, and say, “You know what, I think I might just be pretty.”

I mean I have for a great deal of my life found parts of me attractive, but never really the whole thing. But you know I watched this:

I recently also bleached my hair, started growing my unibrow back, and wearing my glasses more. And it was a shock, my hair I mean, but now I look at myself in the mirror, and I see, I remember myself. Like before all this crazy shit happened. When I was 10 fucking years old. And I had glasses, a unibrow, and was a toe head. I loved myself. I was weird, and I owned it. I was a tomboy, and didn’t care, I didn’t shower that often and while I smelled bad I was okay with it.

And then around the same time, I started going through puberty. And people took notice, to my hairy arm pits, the fact that I needed a bra but didn’t wear one, the way the hair on my lower legs changed, how I smelled. How big my glasses were. And they started making fun of me. Not my friends, not the people that mattered. But I thought that every one mattered. And that every one mattered more than me. And I started to loose myself.

Slowly at first, but surely, I started to play less with my beanie babies, and other animal toys, I started to stop pretending to be animals, real and ones that I had made up. I stopped having my barbies have sex, and other activities, but really I think they mostly had sex and arguments. It was very Melrose Place in my Barbie House, which I made out of other toys I had (mostly an old homemade wooden cabbage patch high chair). And I even stopped pretending, which this senario was only ever played by myself, that I was the female Indiana Jones I went by Indi, and my boyfriend was Batman, and I had a very tawdry affair with Robin. Like I never shared that game with anyone… and I stopped playing it even with myself.

I stopped doing a lot of things that I liked, that I enjoyed, because I got made fun of. I lost myself, to the desire of being accepted by everyone. But ended up a shell bitch with no friends for at least a year, probably a bit more, by the end of junior high.

All because I wanted to be normal, and not myself.

Well fuck that! No more!

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