Monday, April 12, 2010

A Spoonful Of Honesty

No one knows this, but the one thing I dread the most in the morning, more than anything else, is that last galnce in the mirror, before you really do have to leave. You know the one. I for one find it hard, accepting, on a daily routine, that no more can be do be done, you've washed dried and combed yo' hair, you've shaved, moisturised if needs be, and of course, scrubbed 'em teeth...and this is it. This is how you're going to look for the rest of the day. On your way out the door, you try to accept that, should anything of significance happen today, this is how you'll be remembered looking. Don't expect anyone to look back and think to themselves "Why, wasnt his personality looking well that day!". It just doesnt work that way. If only it did.

No one know this, but when anticipating a night out, which may or not include a drink(ing binge) and whatnot, with friends, the one thing I dread more than anything else is how, as is to be expected, bad I'll no doubt look, the mouldy bitch I am in the myriad of "piccies" my oblivious friendy-friends insist on taking. That'd all be good and well if it werent for the medium of correspondance to which we so fondly offer up hours of our valuable time, weekly, Facebook. I brace myself when the dreaded notifications boldly make themselves present in my life "I'm Hawt And I Know It 2kaiX tagged you in a photo". Oh joy. I sigh in relief if I at least achieve "presentable" status in said "piccies". If not, I can spend anything up to a few minutes just gazing at 'em, sizing 'em up, coming to terms with them. It's not unusual for me to keep coming back to them throughout the day, and the days to come, repeatedly asking myself "are they really THAT bad?" Powerless to do anything but merely "untag" myself, i've oft found myself fighting the urge to report these unsavoury pics, to leave my beloved friends in the mercy of the god-only-knows how understanding Facebook staff, in a bid to rid the internet of pictorial evidence of a flash photo gone horrendously wrong. Whether or not this is normal human behaviour is anyone's guess. Hmm...

Sad truth is, there are days when I die a little inside when I pass a mirror within too close a proximity, bespectacled. My own reflection, staring back at me, sometime's it's all just a little to much to grin and bear. Those days, I almost feel I could tackly writing a book on the meaning behind the Palahniuk quote "The difference between how you look and how you see yourself is enough to kill most people." Others days, though, i'll join it in dance. My reflection, that is (You probz think I joke when I say this, but see i thought i'd inject some humourous truth into this blogpost before, you know, things got a little TOO serious) Anywaaays, feel free to call it "Self Image Bipolar" or whatever, but i'd be inclined to say it's an awkward phase that accompanies the rollercoaster of untamable, fickle emotions otherwise known as teenage years (or so I hope anyways) and i think it's safe to say i'm not alone in my "dilema" as such, when I stop to consider what my fellow peers must too go through as part of their daily lives

Another sad truth is, I find myself somehow "expected" to abide by a stereotype in which "looks are evvverything" and little to no emphasis is placed on appreciation of intellect and creative abililty and the likes. "If you've got it, flaunt it!"??? Well, I dont, as far i'm concerned, so THERE WILL BE NO FLAUNTING. 'nough said :) Sadder yet tho, if i'm going to be honest, is that i'm undeniably guilty of taking my lack of self-assuredness out on the more "beautiful people" that flood my peripheral vision, at any given opportunity. That is to say, and i'm ashamed to admit it, i'll make their lives that little bit harder if I can, justifying it by thinking of it as a kind of karma, if you will. After all, there are those whose mere entrance into a room will act as a blow to the self esteem of everyone else in it, whether knowingly or not. I almost feel obliged to make these people's lives a little less incredibly easy...after all, is it not about time they act had to work for something, without having to rely on their looks, the old reliable, to accomplish the task at hand with ease, if even that "something" is my "like" and respect? Forgive my bitterness, but i highly doubt i'm alone in my justifications. So yeah, if ever you feel i'm being particularly "snide bitchy and insincere" to you on any given day, take it as a compliment...chances are, you're looking particularly well. Perphaps i'm just green with envy...nahh, wouldnt go that far just yet =P

Anyways, i'd best leave it at that before i turn this "rape into a murder"...or if you'd rather not indulge in the glib and oily art of metaphor usage, this personal response to the topic at hand into a rantrantrant >< I realise i've strayed far from the "Perception of Beauty" blog originally proposed by Mar-fuck-a herself (Y), but I hope i've effectively tackled an issue close to many of our hearts which isnt voiced frequently enough, I do elephant in the room, if you will, no one dares talk about, enough, anyways. And well, if you found it difficult to relate to anything discussed above, consider yourself lucky...and as for me, don't feel the need to sympathise, I dont want your compassion 'coz well, I Do It To Myself, I Do, And That's What Really Hurts <3


No comments:

Post a Comment