People on the internet get all kinds of shit about being “narcissistic” – especially women- when we take pictures of ourselves, like our faces, and share them with the world.
Just because I like my face and myself doesn’t mean that I can be automatically called a narcissist. Even if one chooses to label me as such, I still have every right to post pictures of myself. They’re on my blog of me. Some of my favorite bloggers have gotten some serious flack for liking their own image and putting it out there- well, screw that. I have a serious problem with people thinking they have ownership or a right to make comments about somebody else when they have no idea who they are, or to form judgements without knowing somebody (as I’ve written about on this blog before). If I have self love and I want to share it, I can do so and I should have the right to do so without getting flak.
So, here’s me. And I don’t care if you don’t like it, or think that I’m ridiculous, or that I am wallowing in a stinking pool of narcissism, because if you’re honestly forming judgement of me this way, I probably don’t have enough respect to care.
Goddamn, loving oneself feels pretty good. I hope everybody does it at some point.
“You look so much sexier with your hair straight”, said my best friend’s boyfriend to me on a Monday morning in Switzerland. I wanted to take the nearest fork and lodge it in his jugular. Instead I calmly told him I could care less what he, this particularly puffed up male specimen, thought looked better or made me more desirable.
“I like it when girls don’t wear make up”/”You look better natural”/”Lipstick makes women hard to approach”/”Too much eyeliner makes you look old”/”Ponytails are sexy”/”Insert something here that men don’t/do like”.
There are literally thousands of things that guys may or may not like about a woman’s appearance. However, we have been told by society that this is something that we should care A LOT about.
Because if you’re not paying attention to what men want, you’re going to waste away alone! Become a cat lady! Go to the grocery store and buy dinner for one FOREVER! Cry to the Notebook night after night, stuffing your face with chocolate wailing because YOU DIDN’T LISTEN! You didn’t notice that Cosmopolitan put in a really awesomely helpful guide to making sure that you fit the men’s bill? Well, you better get your shit together because time’s running out!
As a young twenty-something who has spent years discovering how absolutely exhausting it is to adhere to modern beauty standards, let me tell you my end conclusion: nothing makes me feel better than when I dress for myself, and myself only. I wear old man sweaters as dresses and really bright lipstick. I like my eyebrows thick. My hair is untamed and more like a mane. I don’t wear foundation. I like it when I look like a pale corpse, and I like painting my nails grey. Because it makes me feel awesome and invincible and like I could ride a chimera into Hell and back.
So to every single male on the planet who has ever given me “helpful” feedback I beg you to please swallow those comments and choke on them. I would rather spend my life living it being unattractive to pathetic men who think they have a right to say how we should look than be a babe. Also, I am a babe in my own awesome way, because I decided I am and nobody can take that away from me. Kate OUT!
My legs are one of the most important parts of me. As a runner, a swimmer, a walker, hiker and lover of quick pace, my legs allow me to get around and I love them in all their paleness and length- I have a shorter torso and long legs, something I’ve hated-loved for a long time.
My legs also hold the majority of my scars. My left knee still has a quarter-sized scar from when I took off all the skin on my knee down to the bone. On my right leg a perfect half-circle exists from when I leaned onto the hot tailpipe of an Audi wagon in Switzerland getting some luggage out and got a pretty intense burn. I have a six-inch or so long scar up my left shin from when I shaved my leg into a bloody mess, although even I still can’t believe that I managed to do that. Once I fell onto a broken chair leg in a backyard and bled a lot, and there are smaller scars from just being rather clumsy.
Loving oneself as a whole is often difficult, so I tackle that problem by loving parts of myself that eventually add up to a whole.