I look at all these pretty chicks on Instagram and Tumblr and I wish I looked like them; with their perfectly lined eyes (I mean am I ever going to get comfortable tight lining my eyes without blinking), their fake flawless skin (I can’t even wear foundation because it irritates my skin) and their perfectly curled hair. I wish I was pretty and confident like they are.
But, I don’t know. I hate touching up my makeup, I hate having to check if my eye shadow or my liner has smudged yet and I hate that I push my husband away when he rubs my face/kisses me because I’m scared he’s messing up my makeup.
He loves me without all that crap on my face. He loves the face that he wakes up and falls asleep to. And isn’t that what everyone is searching for? Someone to love them when they’re the most exposed? So why am I so worried about looking like that when I have someone who loves me the most when I look like this? Someone who loves that I don’t spend hours trying to find the perfect thing to wear, that I’m the most adorable in a hoodie and jeans.
I have never really been happy with the way I look. I thought makeup would fix that, and it didn’t really do for me what I thought it would. I do like wearing makeup because I love colors, but it didn’t hide the things that I wanted hidden. But what is it exactly that I’m trying to hide?
No, it was never my appearanceĀ that bothered me. It was me that bothered me. The me that only I know, the me I see when I look in the mirror. The me that I’m going to spend my whole life trying to figure out and fix. The me that only he knows, and the me that still loves despite it’s flaws and damages.
So, in 2012, I’ll try to love and accept myself, just a little bit more. Because I think I need to.