Friday, April 2, 2010

Watching lulu on the tv just now, I got very annoyed. She was talking about the ways plastic surgery can ruin a face, without being capable of moving hers at all. She does look great for her age but seeing a multi millionaire with a great shape and great figure doesn’t mean anything to normal women with regular salaries. I don’t know what I want to do with my life but I am as good as certain it will never involve being rich, so to see a rich women looking great is worse than seeing poor people look terrible, because it shows that it is attainable. The possibility that a woman can look amazing at 50 exists, but only as long as you have a disposable fortune. This impossible goal is cruel, and can destroy self confidence if you use it in comparison with yourself.
What people really need to see is how realistic goals can be reached. This is the point at which I realised how blessed I am to have such great role models.

At my age, my mum definitely had a better figure than me. She lost it over the years, but always manages to look brilliant whatever she is wearing because she knows how to flatter herself, and accessorises with quirky jewellery without making it look like an overstatement. She has never dyed her hair so it looks great, and she doesn’t wear too much make up either, which works in her favour. My Grandma and Auntie on my Dads side of the family look impeccable for their age. Perhaps it is in part due to “good genes” but the fact that they eat well, sleep properly and exercise regularly has to have had some effect on it all. They don’t look “young” because they are not young. They just look great for their age. I don’t want to have a shiny, stretched face with no expression; I want wrinkles that show me as a real person with emotions.

My obsession with weight is embarrassing. After death, being fat is the thing I fear most, and I know that makes me a hideously shallow person. I am going to get old; that much is unavoidable (perhaps if nothing else it will bring some clarity) but the thought of spreading out absolutely terrifies me. Seeing the women on both sides of the family looking as well as they do gives me some confidence. I am blessed that the only things they have wanted me to change are my piercings and provocative clothes, both of which I grew out of on my own. They embraced me being an individual teenager, and always said “dare to be different” So I did. I can only imagine how horrible it would be to encounter adults trying to change how you looked and felt. I hear dreadful stories about mothers who tell girls with perfect figures to lose weight because of their own insecurities, and I hope if I have children I would have the backbone to love them no matter how they looked and not pass on any of my own hang-ups about self image, just the way my family have.


  1. Hmm, I want to say things here, honest things that will sound very... I don't know. Inappropriate. Ha.

    I think you're awesome, and I've known you for all of a month now, right? Pretty much, anyway. I think you're brilliant and while I respect your fears, I don't agree with them.

    Meh. Exeunt!

  2. well that was lovely and reassuring to read, i appreciate it, thanks charlie! i know it looks a bit "oh look at me and disagree" but it isnt meant like that, its just how i feel... i figured if i cant write it here, where can i write it?
    cant wait for our group breakfast tomorrow dear... makes a 6am start worth it completley x

  3. loose women eh?
    very well said, all of it.