#IStandUp

 

This is a problem. One that needs to be addressed.

I have an unshakeable memory of a moment in my life. A moment when my ObGyn suggested I see a therapist because she thought I might be depressed. The therapist was a woman in her late 50’s. And I’ll live a million years and never forget the way she looked at me as she spoke the words no emotional healer should dare utter to someone that might be on the verge of depression – “Imagine being at an interview. You and another girl are the last two contenders. You’re both equally talented. There’s only one difference. She’s thin and glamorous. You’re.. Well, you. Who do you think they’ll choose, sweetheart?”

I cannot tell you how many times I’ve wondered if that was true. I’ve wondered if I’d lose my dream job because of the way I look. I developed an inner fear towards interviews because of her. And you know what the problem is?

She’s just one of the many, many people in this world who, everyday of their lives, continue to make girls feel this way. Like they’re not enough. Like their physical characteristics are flaws that will haunt the dreams they’re building in their minds.

Why does a size 0 swimsuit model still feel fat? Why does Queen Bee feel the need to photoshop her thigh gap? Why does the covergirl on a magazine claim to be make-up free when every inch of her skin is carefully airbrushed?

Have you ever been so uncomfortable in your own skin that you’d pay a man thousands of dollars to alter it? To look in the mirror and want features that aren’t yours. Her nose. Her hair. Her cheekbones. For what?!

The 70’s boasted women who are now considered too fat to have a life. Bigger women were considered beautiful then. A new mother’s pregnancy fat is considered a disgrace now.

But why?

I was having a conversation today and suddenly, something struck me as ridiculously abnormal. When taking a picture with a friend, it is no longer important that only you look good. The person with you has to look that good as well. A human being no longer makes a friend based on emotional attitudes. They’re solely formed on the physical characteristics. He looks decent. He’ll make it look like I have decent friends. She looks hot. She’ll make me look so cool. If I take pictures with them, I’ll get more Instagram followers. This narcissism fuels the concept of “Look Good, Feel Good.”

Fifteen pictures later, there’s always that one person who comments, “Who’s your friend? She’s hot!” And just like that, out of nowhere, your insecurity appears. You stare at your mirror and you see flaws. The girl with a happy-go-lucky smile finds that nonexistent flab and picks at it. Workouts. Fitbits. Walk more. Eat less. Smoothen your hair. Get side bangs. Curl it in the bottom. A Brazillian wax. Inch after inch, your body is carved to the world’s concept of perfection when it is anything but. Only, it’s no longer called an obsession. It’s called “Being Healthy.”

Have you ever stopped long enough to wonder why the men, who’ve always spoken about a “thinner” woman, are suddenly asking for more meat in their women?

It was a few days after the floods hit my city. We were finally out of our houses and in a safer, more drier part of the city. My mother looked at me and said, “I realize now that maybe it’s okay for you to be fat. Some people are meant to be the way they are. You’ve really helped at a moment of crisis. I think you should stay as you are. You’re a nice person.”

I smiled. Not because I’d received a compliment. But because my mother had finally understood something the world is teaching girls to forget.

It does not matter how you look. Nobody cares if you’ve got a thigh gap. Kylie Jenner’s lips are NOT real or natural. Who you are to the world is not about promoting the beauty you possess on the outside.

It is embracing who you are within. It is feeling like a million dollars on your worst day. It is knowing that you’re worth something because you’re kind. Because you’re caring. Because you think and act with your heart.

I don’t want to raise a daughter in a world where the person she turns to for help is going to teach her what that person believes are her flaws.I don’t want to let my sister live in a world where she feels the need to walk up and down the stairs because she ate a slice of pizza. I don’t want my mother to know that the world she’s leaving us with is polluting our brains with everything we’re not. I don’t want my grandmother to ever hear about how, if she were twenty today, she wouldn’t make the cut. Because her beautiful soul will never make as much sense as the perfect winged eyeliner, the close to nothing stomach and an unhealthy waistline.

Who you are today is everything your daughter will live through tomorrow. Is this really the world you want to create for her? Is this the example you want to set?

Because I’d like to believe that somewhere behind those fake eyelashes are eyes filled with tears at the inability to be who you are. And I’d like to hope that this post is telling you it’s okay. It’s okay to not fit in. It’s okay to have thighs that stick together. It’s okay to not have an hourglass figure. It’s okay if your nose looks weird. It’s okay if your cheeks are chubby. It’s okay if your chin looks doubled.

It’s okay. Because that imaginary standard they’re setting? That will go out of fashion within the next decade and all this energy you’ve spent fitting into that stereotype will become pointless. But a good heart? A kind soul? That will always matter. That will always stay in fashion.

So take a deep breath and wipe that makeup off. It’s time to stand up for who you are.

#IStandUp for You.

Who’re you standing up for?!

The Lonely Goose

Facebook, over the past year, has been taking us down memory lane. A recent trip took me to this status message:

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Romantic as it is, it also reminded me of something – I haven’t been in a relationship in five years. I’ve been in love, of course, but it never grew outside of my heart.

And if you’re as emotional as I am, you probably understand the desire to avoid that grey area in your love life. The one where you’re with someone without being with them. The moment your heart flutters at their name but you can’t call them yours. The physical and the emotional Friend with Benefits.

I can’t do that. I’m too serious. Too emotional. Too insecure. I need that security blanket we call a relationship. It may not last forever. I may know that the term ‘girlfriend’ will never turn into ‘fiancé’ or ‘wife’ even. But I still need that promise. That commitment. Even if it’s just for a little while.

And so exists those evenings. The ones we all have. The ones we can’t avoid. The ones we, as single people in our twenties, endure without a choice.

Yes, I’m talking about all you single people struggling to make ends meet with that all-too-insufficient money you’re making while working four times harder than the guy who makes four times the money you make and would just love to come home to someone for that oh-so-amazing hug but you can’t because you don’t have the time for a relationship and when you do, there isn’t someone who wants to date you!

I know how that feels! I know those long evenings where you’re struggling to not make that desperate call to that person you know is the wrong one. And it’s not because you’re horny, no. It’s because you just want to cuddle up on a comfortable couch and watch that crappy series finale of How I Met Your Mother and use that as an excuse to make out like teenagers who’re too afraid to get to second base while in the real world, they’re getting everywhere we aren’t.

It’s torture, isn’t it?! Your arms craving to hold someone. Your lips tingling to be kissed in that comforting, not-ending-in-sex way. Only, you’re sitting alone and you tell yourself – This is better. This means I’m going to end up with someone right. All this will make sense when I’m old enough to find the right one. When I have the time to find the right one. – And you believe it! You believe that little pep talk about the future and decide to distract yourself by logging on to Facebook and Voila! She’s not pretty. He was always an asshole. But here they are. Happy. In love. And you hate being jealous but “How does this person who is just not nice in life find love so fast and I can’t even find a boyfriend pillow?!”

I know how that feels. And if there’s anything that makes this worse, I know what it is.

LOVE SONGS AND ROMCOM MOVIES.

Adam Sandler, with his egg shaped head, goes on FIFTY first dates within 3 hours. You.. You can’t find one date if you lived to be fifty. So you turn off the TV and put on some loud music and try to dance your woes away. There’s only one problem.

Your playlist’s agenda of the day is to make yours worse. So your time away from all things that remind you of your singledom completely and utterly destroys you the moment your earphones blast Landon Austin, in all his glory, singing Once in a Lifetime and you’re wishing. You’re praying. That in that moment this would all fade away. That the Earth would open up and you’d be sucked into a vortex where it’s never lonely. Maybe become a part of NASA’s sleep for 72 days program so the need to walk becomes so high, you no longer want to cuddle. Or maybe take a family vacation! Surround yourself with enough drama and at the end of it, you’d scream at the idea of people!

Yes, I know what this feels like. This evening of being so miserably single that you’re almost ready to just give in and call that person who will be the biggest mistake of your life.

And I’m here to tell you, don’t do it.

Because right now, it sounds about perfect. But tomorrow, when you’re in the middle of an important meeting trying to embarrass the guy who makes more money by working less and your phone buzzes constantly getting you cold stares from every person in the room, you’ll wish you’d listened to me.

Better a lonely goose than an underpaid office clown.