FYI, You're so much more than what you look like

 

My own self image has always been a bit of a strange topic for me. How I see myself has been a bit of a rollercoaster throughout the years, and whilst the steep drops and loop-the-loops are now few and far between, that doesn’t mean I’m not faced with a sharp turn every now and then. Especially when faced with my own reflection more than I’d like.

I’m not talking about the hall of mirrors (don’t worry, that theme park metaphor died in the last paragraph), but rather, being at home more than we usually would be. Eighteen months or so in fact, give or take. The quick glance at yourself in the hallway mirror on the way out has grown into the peering at your thumbnail in the corner of every Google hangout to make sure you still look engaged after two hours. The insta pressure to make sure your pals know you’re having a good time 24/7. The scrolling, scrolling and more scrolling before checking your front camera and feeling sad that you don’t have a chance in hell of ever looking like that girl you don’t even know. Told you it was a rollercoaster.

I’ve been told to stop worrying about what I look like, to stop thinking about what others think, and to stop letting my insecurities about my appearance get in the way. Because oh boy, do those insecurities get in the way. And the funny thing is, you and I know they’re not even real. Not really. The only thing giving them life and allowing them to breathe are the big corporations which continue to capitalise off of them. Lips too thin? Plump them. Eye bags too big? Conceal them. Skin not smooth, radiant or youthful enough? You’re going to need at least five different creams. That’ll be £782 please. Imagine if we just stopped buying things the patriarchy told us to buy because we simply don’t need them? Anarchy. 

And yet, even though I know all of this, I still feel that incredible pressure to conform. To fit in. To look a certain way. And sure, a lot of that I do for myself - make up, clothes, hair, skin care etc. - but there is a part of me which does wonder, is it really for me? Or is it just my own internalised male gaze?  I could literally write a whole book on this; the theory that even when we’re alone,  everything we do is subconsciously just to serve the male point of view. A harrowing and depressing thought, but an intriguing one none the less. (For the record, when I’m dressing up at 2pm on a Sunday afternoon to make a Halloween outfit reel, I’m pretty sure that is for me and me alone. No man, or woman tbh, wants to see me in yet another £5 eBay wig.) 

So where do we go from here? Whilst I don’t think there’s really a clear cut and dry answer, I do think awareness is a good starting point. Simply being more conscious of the reasons why you’re doing things and being safely assured in the knowledge that the sole purpose of you and your body extends far beyond what you look like. You’re so, so much more than that. 

It’s been a while since I wrote a proper blog post so please excuse the above tangential ramble (let’s be honest, what’s new?) I’m interested in talking more personally about a couple of things around this topic, body image etc, but always end up chickening out. Do people want to read that kind of thing? If anything, I guess it would be a cheap alternative to therapy for me. 

Anyway, I hope you’re all doing well, keeping safe and staying sane. Sending love xxx