I took my ukulele out for a walk with a friend yesterday. Both being fashion bloggers, we liked to point out cool fashiony things on the way to Fro-Yo World and sing along to A Very Potter Musical songs with the uke. We were dressed, but we didn’t wear costumes or get dressed especially to please the public. Or even interest anyone. Or even look particularly good ourselves. (I can only speak for myself here, because it would be unfair to say that my friend shares my views. Maybe she does, maybe she doesn’t. The point is- we looked wonderful, but I myself care more about clothes than how they make my body look. I like things to fit, but my wardrobe is not based around me looking skinny and hlskdlkfnvlliowjfnzlsol…)We just wore what we liked, which lead to me being both flattered and unamused at the 20-year-olds that asked to take my picture with their iPhone. They walked off giggling. Very funny- let’s make a 14-year-old with a ukulele suddenly feel awkward about herself. At least the frozen yogurt was delicious, but I still was kind of mad. How dare they make fun of me like that? Yes, it was decided that they were making fun of me. They asked where I was from- “Mars”, they probably whispered to themselves, giggling stupidly.
Then I got home and shook it off and realized that nothing had actually happened. Someone thought I looked interesting and took a picture of me, and then walked away, while proceeding to laugh at something that could have been entirely irrelevant. Then I realized that even if they had been laughing at me, who cares? First of all, I didn’t even know them and would never see them again. Second of all, isn’t it one of my ultimate goals to achieve the nirvana of self-acceptance and confidence? Yes, I own a mirror. I am hygienic. I brush my hair. But I don’t inspect myself closely for blemishes every morning, then scold my body and feel upset at a minor flaw. I don’t wear makeup not because I’m cocky or overconfident, but because I feel no desire to look pretty. Yes, that’s right. I have moved onto the stage of utmost acceptance and I don’t even care if I am attractive or not. I try to be polite and kind and approachable, but I know I do not naturally look like a model and I’m not going to waste any time pretending to. I’m not trying to have you all comment, “BUT UR SOO PURDY OMG STOPP” or something. I think I’m around the average mark. I kind of like my eye color. But I don’t feel any desire to change how I look. I don’t know how to explain why. I just don’t, like you might not really care if your hair is brown or dirty blond, because it really doesn’t make a big difference in any way. This is almost directly linked to my attitude towards clothing. I don’t care if clothes look “flattering” on me- but I do care how my clothes look. They are my armor. They are sculpture. It’s wearing my heart on my sleeve in an *almost* literal sense. (Not my real heart, but my real sleeve, that is.) I can put on a character or a mood or an idea into clothes. I would feel more self-conscious in something that didn’t reflect me or something about me. The one thing I will never be ashamed of is my body. I’m stuck with it so I may as well get used to it and its scars and big feet.
What are your beauty standards for yourself?