Vanity is Medicine for the Soul, Not a Market Tool
Dear me,
Beauty is a bitch.
A stone-cold statue in the middle of the world, holding jealousy, desire, betrayal and admiration at
her feet.
A silent war over something nobody can properly define.
What is beauty actually for, except to be hated and admired?
Sometimes by the same person.
I am more than her.
I admire myself.
My body is a sensation and I am all that I want.
You hated me a little after reading that, didn't you?
Even if you are me.
Who does she think she is?
When can I say that out loud?
Why is it acceptable to hate my body publicly but arrogant to admire it?
Who decides how much self-respect I am allowed before it becomes too much?
And who exactly do I ask permission from to love myself with volume?
People usually prefer hearing:
"I need to lose weight."
More than:
"I love my body."
One makes them comfortable.
The other forces them to examine themselves.
And comfort has become a religion.
Acceptance says:This is who I am.
Self-love asks:
What else could I become?
One requires awareness.
The other requires action.
And lately I am becoming suspicious of how much tolerance is being sold as self-love.
I am writing this in an oversized white tee.
Heavy cotton.
Pure white.
A single teardrop falling into a white glove printed on it.
When the soul starts filling with new colours, the skin wants to follow.
My inside started believing it deserved more.
I had a conversation with my sister yesterday.
We always drift apart after two minutes, and I am starting to understand why.
My sister is one of the most beautiful women I know.
And she has absolutely no idea.
Her friend told her she was fat.
She was devastated.
Even though she claims she loves herself exactly as she is.
I sat there searching for the right words.
For her.
And for me.
Because if one sentence from another person can destroy your confidence, was it self-love or
tolerance all along?
She looked at me waiting for an answer.
And I realised I didn't have one.
Not yet.Because how do you explain to someone that every comment feels like an attack when they built
their whole identity around defending themselves?
How do you tell someone that acceptance and self-love might not be the same thing without
sounding cruel?
And maybe the most uncomfortable part is that I am not entirely sure where the line is myself.
But I guess that is what becoming is about.
Finding it.
I have a feeling this conversation is far from over.
And judging by how much it is irritating me, I am probably going to need some wine for this.