I’m Beautiful…Dammit – Victoria – [07/15/2013]

Too wacked, too smart, too fast, too fine,
too loud, too tough, too too divine.
(I said you don’t belong. You don’t belong.)
Too loud, too big, too much to bear,
too bold, too brash, too prone to swear.
I heard that song for much too long.

Ain’t this my sun? Ain’t this my moon?
Ain’t this MY world to be who I choose?

It has really been driven home to me in the past week and a fraction just how much control we have over how other people make us feel. We’re trained nearly from birth to not believe we are beautiful. People who stand true in their own beauty are so often labeled vain, self-centered or even more negatively ‘slut’ (and other such words), we’ve all heard it, it’s that little voice whispering in your head that you don’t deserve this, why would you think otherwise etc etc.  “bad things happened to girls who are pretty”. It seems we always have to “be” something for someone else, we set this up in our own minds, in our own hearts – be good, be have ,be nice, be proper.

It’s an impossible goal. And no one is ever going to reach it, because everyone’s ‘ideal’ is different.

And somehow because of all this, when we are presented with an image of ourselves that *is* beautiful, that is raw beauty, captured in whatever moment…we cringe, we cry, we shy away…we tell ourselves that that can’t be right, that can’t be us, good girls don’t think that. We instinctively search for the flaws, we look for things to bring ourselves down, we focus on that instead of the incredible fact of our own actual truth, our own beauty…which can be *breathtaking*…

And it’s just NOT RIGHT.

I have had the incredible privilege to be raised in an amazing, accepting, wonderfully open-minded household. I have thrown a lot at my parents over the years, and I’ve been at times a complete and total moron and the worst over-emotional drama queen in the world. I live my life at 11, and that can be a very high pace to keep up with. But never once has my direct family been anything but supportive ,even when we’re driving each other crazy. Outside of that direct bubble, I realize now that I choose my social circle based on who will accept me for who I am, for every shadow of who I am, and who accept me anyway, flaws and all. I surround myself with people who see my beauty even when – or perhaps because – I don’t always see it myself.

Despite that, I sometimes still cringe when I look in the mirror, when I see myself on camera. I still have a moment of wincing at some things, before I shake the dust out of my ears and the dried ideas out of my hair and realize that no, that’s not who I am anymore. THIS is who I am. I’m pretty, I’m smart, I’m well-educated, I eat too much chocolate and have a serious weakness for a well mixed amaretto-ginger, I have a job that I love, I people who count on me, and a lot of people who love me (even though sometimes I don’t know precisely…why, since i”m crazy and they’re crazy but at least we’re all crazy together!). Yeah, I’m lucky, but I’ve made my own luck, and I worked exceptionally hard for it.

I’m a jigsaw puzzle made up of the choices I’ve made and the paths I have chosen, and the product of that is a pretty great mosaic.  I’ve made choices I’ve proud of and choices I loathe, but at the bottom of it all I’m ME. Just me. Love me, hate me, take me, leave me, I’m ME.

There are people who have seen me grow up, who have witnessed my journey from girl to woman, who do not accept me for who I am. Who truly don’t know me at all. I have spent a large portion of my life trying to live up to those impossible standards. I’m done. For once in my life? I love the woman I see in the mirror, I love the woman who can stare up at a camera and smile a smile that actually hits her eyes and lights them up…I worked hard to be here, and I will NOT let her be stolen I will NOT let her be crushed. Not by the past, not by the future…and not by anyone else…not even by me (and trust me, I often give it a damn good try with the wrecking ball).

I am Gypsy Rose Lee, and I *love her* and if you don’t you can just get out right now… (Gypsy, 1998)

I’m not to short, I’m not too tall I’m not too big I’m not too small. I’m not too white, I’m not too black, I’m not too this, I’m not too that…

And that should go for each and every one of you. Man, woman or child – don’t let the world steal you. Don’t let your past put out your light. Don’t wear a coat of memories that aren’t yours, don’t give yourself away…

Because seriously? Too many people do…