Let me start off by sharing a little bit about my morning.
It’s snowy here in Maryland, and the chilled air got me excited to wear my super soft and comfy leggings I’ve had since high school. I put them on, and they were obviously too small. That’s fine, I guess. I mean, I have had them since high school. So I went into my closet and pulled out another favorite, high-waisted jeans I bought a little over a year ago. Super cute, perfect for today. As I waddled around my room tugging at the belt loops, trying to squeeze into them, one of the belt loops snapped, causing a hole to form in the jeans. Great. My jeans can’t fit over my fat ass without tearing.
Needless to say, I was over the idea of putting on pants, and couldn’t take not fitting into or ripping another pair. So I put on a long, flowy, floral dress. It is December, and it is snowy. And as we are chatting right now, I sit at my kitchen table wearing floral and feeling nostalgic of the warm weather and when I could actually fit into my clothes.
If we’re being honest with each other, my insecurities started way before my pant problem of this snowy morning. I can’t look into a mirror without pointed out what is wrong with me, what I would change about myself. A lot of the time, I don’t see my figure for what it is, I see it as what it is not. I see that I’m not a size 0 Victoria’s Secret model, and that frustrates me. I see that my skin doesn’t look airbrushes like Karlie Kloss, and that disappoints me. Seldom do I look in the mirror and say to myself, “I wouldn’t change a single thing.”
And you know what, that’s really sad. Why have I, and so many other women, become so engrossed in their insecurities, that they can’t even look in a mirror without pointing out a flaw? In today’s digital age, we are always comparing ourselves, to those Instagram models, to those bloggers, to those movie stars. Why don’t I look like that? Why can’t I be like her? Why do I feel disgusted with my body because I’m not a size 0?
I’m not sure if you know this, and I’m not sure I have comprehended this truth, but every woman is insecure. Every one of them. That Instagram model? She’s probably insecure about the way people view her, constantly striving to put on a show for people to “like”. That movie star? She may look glamorous and her life may seem perfect, but what if she goes home and feels insecure about not having real friends to be with? She’s insecure about her loneliness. Heck, even Beyonce has admitted to being insecure, and she’s f*cking Beyonce.
We all want what we don’t have. We all compare ourselves to others, we all point out things that could be better about ourselves, whether in the mirror or in our lives.
But what would happen if we learned to celebrate the way we are? What if instead of getting upset at myself for not fitting into a size 0, I celebrated that I’m the perfect size for me. We can’t all look like the models we see on billboards, that would actually be pretty scary if we did.
We’re all different, and that’s a good thing. I’m challenging myself, and all the women who deal with insecurities everyday, to start celebrating your “flaws”. Celebrate that you’re different. Celebrate the traits that make you you. Celebrate your curves, celebrate your non-perfect skin. Celebrate that you are 100% yourself, and that is a beautiful masterpiece.
So a message to my insecurities, and the insecurities of all women: F*ck you. You’re a pain in our ass, and you can leave. Because we are all different, and we celebrate that.
XOXO,
Reb
Zany Lady 