I am pretty. You are pretty. I am pretty. You are pretty.
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what im wearing: boohoo pink trench & boohoo nude plunge co-ord set
I know I’m not overweight. I know I have some pretty features. Most days, I am relatively happy in the skin I live in and I hate how that might seem like arrogance, when really it’s just a confidence that as a 26 year old finally comes pretty naturally to me. But recently, I haven’t been feeling all that great, something inside me slipped and I fell into a fascination with plastic surgery (oh, I hate admitting this). When anything interests me, I buy a book on it – and so for more nights than I’d like to admit, I was in bed reading step by step grotesque medical details of different surgeries, learning all about recovery times and different procedure methods. I was enthralled and there I was staying up too late, picking out procedures with the same ease as I add shoes to online shopping carts. But like all the shoes deserted across the internet never to arrive boxed outside my front door, I guess my interest in surgery waned just a little and so I deserted the idea all together. Now I have nothing against plastic surgery – I’m just not sure I could ever do it, or if I would really actually want to. I’d like a different nose, same sized boobs and for that sliver of tummy fat that refuses to shift to finally dissappear – yes, I’d like all that, yes, please. But I’d also like to go on a date with Cary Grant, have my very own petting zoo and retire at 27 to travel for the rest of my life. You see, I want so many things – half of which are utterly ridiculous fantasies and the other half? Pure superficial desires like shoes or a smaller nose. I’m tired of wanting so many things, it’s exhausting – all these mental lists stuffed up in my head, reels upon reels of things I want. And you know what, just that tickle of interest in surgery…it snagged my confidence, and as that interest lead to fascination, my confidence was pulled and ripped until there was big old hole in it – a hole that made me sad, uncomfortable and wishing to look like an entirely different person altogether. How sad – to always be wanting something else, especially when I already have so much. I have 400 odd pairs of shoes and everyday someone tells me I’m pretty – why on earth do I go looking for more? Why do I spend time looking at shoes online? Why was I sitting in bed yearning to change my face and body altogether? And as someone who prides themselves on their confidence, I tell you all this with shame – wasting all that time sitting in front of my vanity mirror fantasizing about changing my face, reading that stupid surgery encyclopedia and then calculating how I could financially afford all these procedures. I had to make it stop, so I did. This constant wanting, it’s an addiction. And confidence is a like a fragile muscle, it can grow weak and limp if you let it – and it’s easier to let it sag. Mine did, all of ours do – but we mustn’t let it. And so today, I come at you with this confession – exhausted with always wanting something else, sad to have seen my confidence take such a plunge and determined to feel happier with what I have. Starting with this skimpy outfit on a beautiful balcony with those uneven boobs, larger-than-I’d like nose and a tummy that will never be totally flat. But I’ll bet to you, I look pretty. Because I am pretty and so are you.
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