I know people who are completely comfortable in their own skins and could care less what other people think about them.
I wish I was one of those.
I'm okay with my personality. While I am stubborn and impatient, I am smart, kind, compassionate, and reasonably talented. I would like a little more ambition, but I'm okay without it.
It's my physical appearance that I find lacking. I'm not ugly. I'm plain. In this culture where youth and beauty are defined by the media, I don't measure up.
Mind you, my shortcomings don't bother me enough to do anything about it. I don't wear makeup. It makes me itch. I don't dress fashionably. I dress for comfort. I wear jeans, sneakers, and camp shirts to work because I prefer my skills take center stage over my appearance.
By societal standards, I need to lose weight, but it doesn't bother me enough to give up cookies or chips and salsa to be skinnier. Still, when I see other people at the gym that are tanned, free of freckles and age spots, and not pudgy, I feel inferior.
Sometimes, briefly, I reach the desired level of acceptance of my appearance. I realize that people like me for who I am and how I treat them, not for what I look like.
This most recent dismay was prompted by seeing myself in a video testimonial I did for my gym. It was taken before a class, so I didn't make any effort to spruce up. Also, I talk with my hands, but my hands weren't shown,. Apparently my head twitches when I move my hands, so it looked like I was having a seizure. .
Looking at the video, I decided that people who tell me I look younger than my age are just being gracious. I thought I looked every year of my age.
Should it matter to me? No.
Does it matter? Unfortunately.
Am I still a good person? Of course.
Is self-acceptance genetic or is it something that can be learned?
Sigh.
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