There are — have been — will be times that my self esteem needs work. It can be tough for me at times to see myself as those who care the most about me see me.
I have felt that there was nothing spectacular about me and that there was nothing special. I am over that most of the time. I really do think that I am absolutely fucking fabulous, but sometimes who I used to be creeps into the bowl of chips.
I was about 12 or 13 when I first began to realize that I am a ‘woman’ and that as a ‘woman’ there are advantages.
I can recall a Saturday afternoon, I was going to the local ghetto mall, and I don’t remember why, but I remember the outfit.
Black low pumps, jeans – and baggy jeans at that – a matching jean jacket. Doesn’t sound all that special, until you add in that I tossed on a beige tube top to the mix. Honestly it was not a tube top, it was some piece of spandex cruelty I’d found in my mother’s drawer but it fit across my breasts, and I wanted to look like other girls.
I went to Catholic elementary school, so the bulk of my time was spent in that horrid uniform.
|This fucking thing|
My mother was not all that interested in buying me regular clothes. That is another story for another time, but my wardrobe was quite limited. I never had designer clothes like most of my friends so I would mix and match my thrift store belongings with what mom had in her closet…she had nice shit.
I thought of myself as a fat chick, and all of my friends were skinny, or at least skinny to me, and I wanted to look like them.
I had not yet realized that I wasn’t ‘fat’ – I was a girl, I had hips and boobs, no butt though 🙁
So I walked down to the bus in my gear, and people were looking at me. Well now I thought gee I must look like an idiot because all of these men keep staring at me. I didn’t go back into the house though, I stayed on the mission to do whatever the fuck it was I was doing at the mall that day.
It was not until some 40 something old man tried to get my telephone number that I realized….WHY people were staring. The men were attracted to me and the women were upset that the men were attracted to me.
It would take many many more years to really understand that concept, but that was my first vizion into what my 20’s would hold for me.
The thing is I don’t think of myself as beautiful. I think I am attractive, I think anyone who is NOT interested is missing the best thing since well forever, but I still do not think that I am beautiful…..unless HE tells me.
I know it’s a little strange, but it is how it is.
When I look through HIS eyes, I can see myself as beautiful. Now mind you right now he is not the only person who calls me beautiful, but I pretty much dismiss it from everyone else.
In other relationships, my partners have called me beautiful. Again, I just over looked it to their bias, I could not ACTUALLY BE beautiful, they just thought that I was because they cared about me.
It could be because my mother spent what little time we had together as a child calling me fat and ugly, but regardless, it took the appreciation of one person to get me to even consider it.
I see beauty now in places that I did not used to see it. I appreciate it, and I embrace it. Nothing still is quite as beautiful as the sound of Clyde’s laugh, but there are many more things that I notice now that I did not before.
My challenge will be to keep seeing the world in this way. I have a task that I have a couple of months to complete, and quite frankly it is going to take all of my self control, will power, and a little bit of fortune to get through it.
I don’t want it to be tough, but other than to chant about it I don’t know how to make it less rough. And the timing of it could not be worse. I have two other very big projects that need my immediate attention, but this too can not be delayed.
My hope is that at the end of April, I still see beauty.