Supeficially self-conscious

Over the school holidays my aunts cornered and convinced me to dye my crow-black hair a shade of brown. As is the case with all dyes, my hair subsequently turned a ghastly orange. Also during this holiday I got a job. My colleagues, (please note: by colleagues I mean a bunch of dimwitted teenage delinquent boys) found it amusing to inform me that my estranged shaped and sized eyebrows did not match my hair. It didn’t help much when I returned to school to be greeted as ‘Carrot head’ by my dear friend- in her defense I had recently gained a tan and may have possibly resembled a sun dried tomato.

 

I was reminded of this episode as I read through a copy of ‘Seventeen’ magazine. Turning the glossy sheets I envied the flawless models with their stick straight teeth, paper thing figures, crystal clear skin, shiny [and immaculately coloured} hair and of course their swank outfits. By the time I had reached the back cover I’d felt more self-conscious and just a bit despondent. Those traits I [and the rest of the world] can only dream of.

Have you ever: 

□ Felt too fat?

□Felt too skinny?

□Had oily skin, spots included?

□Thought you had an over sized nose?

□Had heinously fuller eyebrows?

□Had a bad hair day- everyday?

□Felt your tummy, instead of being toned and tanned is flabby and fat?

□ Or as a guy been tormented for wearing skinny jeans?

□Looked as though you’d fought an army of zombies, been turned into a mutant and drowned in a sea of green slime?- in normal language this is when you wake up

□Felt pretty, but un-pretty?

Sounding familiar?

 

If you’ve answered yes to one, two or all of the above then this is reality for those if us who haven’t undergone 100 hours of photo shop. Unfortunately (or fortunately in my opinion) none of us have the last name ‘Kardashian’ thus plastic surgery is a luxury we cannot afford.

 

Here’s the big question: SO WHAT? Your braces haven’t been removed, you’re still wearing last season’s glasses and contact lenses don’t agree with you. You spend hours editing your pictures and they’re still short of amazing. SO WHAT? Stop running from your flaws. Stop covering them up with bogus cosmetics, embrace the difference because without them we’d just be a catwalk of Victoria Beckham-thin, starving airheads. 

 

Remember you don’t know you’re beautiful and THAT is what makes you beautiful. ♥

 

Coincidently, Lilly Collins was on the cover of the magazine i was reading. For those of you who follow @iamthebrows on twitter will know that Lilly, young and successful as she is suffered from a complex due to her slightly extended eyebrows. She responds resplendently to derogatory comments by saying “I’ve realised the quirky things that make you different are what make you beautiful.” Like Lilly, I can now confidently say that I love my brows and my mismatched hair and yes everyone, ‘EYEBROWS THE INTERNET’ 😉

 

We live in a time where you’re more likely to be judged by what’s on your body rather than the magnitude of the heart it conceals. Those are the things that count. Loyalty, love, originality, inner beauty and so many virtues that can’t physically be seen. 

 

Keep your head held high, gorgeous. There are people who would kill to see you fall (especially if you’re in a pair of 6 inch heels you may just break your neck!)

 

_Quixotic Novelist ♥

If happy ever after’s did exist…

“And so they lived happily ever after…”

I watched as awe lit up my baby sister’s face as I read to her the timeless tale of Beauty and the Beast. I contemplated telling her sweet, innocent proprium that what I’d narrated would remain fabricated, that she’d never become a princess. Her bedtime stories wouldn’t live further than the pages of the book they reside in, but I couldn’t bring myself to crush a girls dreams, because not too long ago that little idealist was me.

Growing up in the worlds of Snow White and Sleeping Beauty, carriages and balls, chattering animals, tiaras and ball gowns, happiness and roses and then, well,  you get thrown into the world of real life, where you learn that fairy tales don’t really exist. Prince Charming is purely fictional. Love letters have been replaced with emails and text messages, the only roses you can expect to receive are the artificial ones -a week after your birthday- and that, for quite some time, the item that needs to be added to the ‘Extinct Species’ list are ‘Gentlemen’.

Sure the world has to evolve but does that mean we have to lose respect and have our beliefs in love crushed with the cruel realization of heartbreak, disappointment and settling for far less than we deserve?

I often ask myself if a peasant princess such as myself will ever find her Prince Charming?

Janis Joplin said “Don’t compromise yourself. You’re all you’ve got.” I refuse to alter my conviction  in fairy tales, my prince will arrive, preferably wearing Gucci or Armani, – also I accept exact replicas of Chuck Bass – my glass slipper will be a louboutin and no offence to Cinderella but I would rather chop off my foot than lose that chefd’oeuvre . I will have my fairy tale and perhaps there will be several, tedious volumes before, but someday I will find my happily ever after…- Let’s just hope I won’t have to sleep a thousand years or lose an expensive slipper or lay in a glass coffin during allergy season!

♥ _Quixotic Novelist