Miss Perfect or What the heck does it matter what I look like?

“I've gone through stages where I hate my body so much
that I won't even wear shorts and a bra in my house
because if I pass a mirror, that's the end of my day.”
~ Fiona Apple ~

Fiona Apple is completely unaware of this, but this is my story, too. I hate walking around naked. I get changed as quickly as I can. I don't particularly like swimming – which is great because I actually don't like walking around in swimwear. I don't like wearing pants that end above my knees because my knees are ugly. I hate shopping for pants (and dresses and skirts) because my upper legs are actually wider than my hips (and this makes it a nightmare to find pants that fit over my legs and then also fit my comparably small waist).

“But… you are beautiful, your husband adores you, you really don't know how gorgeous you are.” Oh yes, I have heard things like that. Can I believe them? No. Because I have also heard many other things: “You have sturdy legs, you've grown pretty big hips, you're boobs are quite small, you look like you've gained some weight.” Do I believe those things? Happily. Because they are supported by today's fucking stupid what-people-are-supposed-to-look-like-standards, they are proclaimed from every billboard and TV and cinema screen. Women are supposed to be perfect. Perfect in every respect. I am not perfect, full stop. I am actually far from it. It is impossible for me to measure up to these standards. And actually, it is impossible for every single person. Women AND men.

Back in the day it was hip to be big. Being big spoke of prosperity and health. Nowadays it is hip to be athletic and skinny. Being skinny speaks of discipline and health. Funny, that. I yearn for the day when we are able to look at each other and don't see prosperity or discipline or health. When we look at a person and see just that: A person. A human being with a story. A human being worthy of love and respect and honour.

Steve Maraboli once said: “There is nothing more rare, nor more beautiful, than a woman being unapologetically herself; comfortable in her perfect imperfection. To me, that is the true essence of beauty.” I wholeheartedly agree and yet, I still don't dare to walk around my house naked. On the outside I pretend that I am (mostly) ok with my body. But when I look into the mirror, I see only what is wrong with my body. I am yearning for the day where I am able to look into the mirror and tell myself:

“Hello, fellow human being.
You are beautiful. Every single bit.
I love and respect and honour you.
And now: Get undressed and marvel at your unique beauty.
With love from a fellow human being.

Choices

Alice came to a fork in the road. ‘Which road do I take?’ she asked.
‘Where do you want to go?’ responded the Cheshire Cat.
‘I don't know,’ Alice answered.
‘Then,’ said the Cat, ‘it doesn't matter.’

Choices. We are surrounded by choices. We constantly face them, little ones and big ones. Significant, life-changing ones, and the numerous fun choices like buying milk or dark chocolate (or both)? Sometimes, we are not even aware of the choices we make on a daily basis. We just make them, as if we were going through the motions. But sometimes, sometimes there are choices that have the potential of completely turning our lives around. Which are full of excitement and risk and potential. And full of change.

When we are confronted with those choices, everyone responds in their own individual way:

• Some take one look at those choices and then just run at them, tackling them to the ground and running with the last option standing.
• Some transform into an ostrich, burying their head in the sand, hoping the choice will make itself somehow. Or just go away already.
• Some sit down with the choice, look at it from all angles, examine it, talk with it, and then walk into the most enticing direction.
• Some take the choice along when they have coffee with friends or family, mulling it over while soaking in each others comforting presence.
• Some people have been known to even kill the choices in a desperate effort to avoid them altogether.

I am not sure what my response is to the tough choices life throws at me from time to time. I sometimes happily go for a run with them, while I am also known for having hearty debates with them which sometimes leave me sitting on the ground, weeping like a blubbery mess as one of my friends would say. Choices, those really tough life-changing choices, excite me and scare the living daylights out of me at the same time. I yearn for them as much as I want to hide from them.

Still, there will always be times when those choices enter our lives. I am sitting here with one at the moment. I quite like the choice or rather its potential. Yep, it still freaking scares me, but we are quite happily drinking tea together, Black Tea Liquorice to be more precise. There is a lot of risk involved in making this choice. Not life or death risk, but still pretty high in the scheme of things. What makes me feel more comfortable to be around this particular choice is thinking about who I am, what I stand for, what is important to me in life. My identity, in short. Sitting here with the choice, drinking tea at this crossroad in my life, I can look up at my identity and use it as a signpost. Your choice: This way. And that's what helps me most in making those hard choices. Thank you, Ruth Chang, for helping me figure this one out. Because sometimes, it does matter where we go.