A little while ago I spent 20 minutes applying make up in such a way that it didn't look like I was wearing make up. A practice I had tried to perfect for several years. Prior to this I awoke, stared at my face in the mirror and picked apart each and every flaw. I managed to tear myself away from my own self hatred to shower. I thought I had outsmarted myself as I turned away from the mirror, ignoring the repugnant reflection. I stepped a toe into the shower and the tirade began again.
I stared at my stomach, protruding arrogantly as water and tears cascade into and from my eyes. Even though everything was blurred I could still pinpoint every. single. thing. I hated.
This isn't healthy. If I love other people as passionately as I do, I should love myself just as much. Since then, I've worked hard on trying to love myself. And I can actually say that I do. So here's a love letter to myself for the days when I don't.
Dear Angela,
The bags under your eyes definitely aren't Prada and are more a product of both anxious nights and heredity. But who cares? You have concealer and as tumblr says, sometimes the worlds gotta know that you're tired of its bullshit.
Your hair is messy 95% of the time but you know that someone has called that sexy numerous times. Your ass is non existent and it may feel like you're 9 sometimes. But jeans will always get over your thighs. Maybe just do some squats.
You do look 12 sometimes. Your height and baby hairs don't help the situation but you get away with children's bus tickets and being id'd when you're 29 will probably be a compliment.
Now onto what you hate the most; your moustache, your tummy and your tits.
When mum says that the hair on your upper lip isn't noticeable if you don't know it's there, she's right. Even when the sun shines and somehow highlights the unwanted hair stop trying to cover it with a scarf or your hand. That just looks weirder.
Sometimes your tummy taunts you. Skin tight dresses are daunting and jeans that aren't high waisted cause painful anxiety. In reality your stomach has to shove out a little, there's so much going on both in your body and mind that you can forgive yourself for that can of Pringles or the third brownie. Life's too short not to wear that dress or eat the cake. No one will see your tummy when you're dancing your heart away to a Justin Bieber remix or laughing your head off at your own joke.
And finally your boobs. They're quite small and don't always hold up your tops. V- Necks are a no go. You've been wearing some of the same bras that you did when you were 13 and that's okay, as long as no one ever sees them. You will never have back problems because of an overly audacious bosom. They're worshipped by someone so really, who cares? You shouldn't. Tits are tits and hands will want to grasp them no matter their size.
Now onto the really important stuff that you over look far too often. You NEVER. take yourself too seriously and always laugh at your mistakes. You use your tales of woe as ice breakers and quips when someone needs a laugh.
You've grown so much as a person since last June so stop beating yourself up over THAT fight. You're not that girl anymore. Whoever isn't here to see that growth isn't worth a second thought, even when you're missing old conversations.
You go out of your way for anyone you care about and drop everything when someone needs you. That's not actually something everyone does. Be proud of the fact you're actually there for people. You say what you mean which has made you fall for the words that fall from bullshitters mouths. But its a rare thing to find someone who means every word and the people around you will be thankful that when you say you're always there to talk, you actually are.
Next time you look to your friends and think 'I wish I had her body' or 'I wish I looked that good without make up' or 'I wish I had my life together like she does' think back to this letter. Someone loves you and so should you.
Yours,
Angela
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