Sunday, 10 August 2014

Im Okay With It


As a young and not so skinny woman of East Indian descent, I can admit that I have always struggled with the template photo-shopped beauty ideals that seem to set the standards in the western world. Well... almost always. Honestly, until I moved back to Canada I was a chubby little brown kid growing up in West Africa, a foodie in the making, blissfully ignorant and actually quite happy that way. I'm grateful for those innocent, doe-eyed and content years because as a new westerner I received a fair amount of social culture shock and made it a baseline career in my impressionable teen years of being unhappy with my looks and my body. I spent more time than i'll admit to wishing I could just be your average pretty and petite blonde girl with blue eyes and no inhibitions, you know, the one who looks adorable with no make up on in shorts and a plain white tank top. The one that Jordan Catalano would've made smoldering eyes at on her first day of high school.
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I moved back to Canada just in time for grade 6, and although I managed to keep my bubble of naturally grown self confidence up for a while, it wasnt long before I realized that there was a standard here that I wasn't living up to, a standard that made it easier for people to treat me as less of a person. Not everyone does that of course, but when enough people do, you begin to realize where you 'fit' in the perpetual perception of your adolescent peers, and why. My bubble didn't burst, it slowly imploded and melted into my skin, and instead of becoming some sort of second skin or armor, it  felt like i was wearing this giant sign that read " I am not enough, and I can read it in the way people look at me".
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High school brought a whole new added level to unease, the way it does for most, and when I say unease, I really mean Hell. Welcome to the world of open locker rooms, where only the sporty lacrosse stars are comfortable stripping down to their sports bras, the endless halls of handsome seniors who will ogle the pretty freshman next to you, and glance over you like you're the not-so-new, yet out of place, furniture. How come no one in the breakfast club was even a tiny bit big boned ? At least I wouldn't fit into my own locker! Why couldn't this be hairspray ? I could sing! I could dance! Actually scratch that, the segregation undertones were not something I could be selfish enough to ask for, even in imaginary  'My life is a movie' land.
fat amy
I grew up watching teenage 90s romances and as a confident kid, it never occurred to me that I wouldn't automatically be accepted as the Amanda Becket character in my new life and that instead to this day I'd still have to remind myself that I'm not Josie Grossie anymore. I mean, I could at least have had a shot at being Laney Boggs right ? Alas, there was no bet on who could turn me into a prom queen, and to be honest, high school was way raunchier than my happy 90s mindset. At a pivotal moment in grade 10 when I found out that the guy I had liked for years, had taken to calling me Beluga(whale) as a joke with his friends, I decided on hard, cold change. By grade 12 I had lost a significant amount of weight. I didnt have a date to the prom but I did have the best senior year and with that the progress continued.
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The funny thing is, I look back on the smallest I ever got now and realize that I never even knew that I looked fine, even gaunt and sickly at times. In my second year of University, 6 months into my first breakup my sister started calling me Nicole Richie in a passive aggressive way of not offending me but still putting out concern for my  frame and well being. I laughed it off as a joke and worse yet a compliment, and only looking back at old pictures do I now realize that I had no idea I had hit and even passed my physical goals, mostly because it turns out I didnt know what my goal was. I thought if I lost more weight and got prettier and more polished, one day I'd look in the mirror and say to myself " yes, that's it, this is exactly what I was working for, I am now a whole person, I have found my perfect self".
liam-payne-perfect
That was the pivotal step number one for me. Realizing that my ideal self was always going to be changing and that I was never going to reach her, I'd more likely sprint right past her and then run circles around her, because there was no way to pin her down. I could only try and be my best and hope that my best self of now would make me happier than my perfect self of never. This is what you dont see with people addicted to plastic surgery. Some people nip and tuck past conventional attractiveness altogether because in their minds, there is no now. There is always more to do, more to fix, to nip, to tuck and that sickly cycle is a never ending cage of pain and insanity. Trying to physically alter that level of unhappiness is a thirst that is never quenched, trust me I would know.
yeah
Step number two, as Sheryl Crow so eloquently put it, is " not having what you want, It's wanting what you've got". I promise that you have always taken, and will always in some way or another take for granted the fact that, as corny as it sounds, the grass is always greener on the other side. So I've  stopped hoping for greener grass and started looking around for four leaf clovers on my side of the fence. It is so important to give credit to the good things you have, the things others wish they had. Most of my friends are caucasian, and while I love my best friend's blonde hair ( I even tried to be blonde a few times, it did not work for me the way it doesn't work for Niki Minaj, but worse), it borders on the thin side, and mine, unruley and thirsty as it can be, can hold an amazing curl for days. There, would you look at that?! How easy was that ? I freaking love my hair. Its fabulous, it's mine and I know so many people who would love to have it.
your moms chest hair
Step number three was the most crucial step I took towards setting myself free, and I have to say that it has been one of the biggest and bravest parts of my development as a person, as a woman and as me in the greater stream of life, love, progress and happiness. It was also what would seem like the simplest. I finally accepted that this is my face, it will always be the face that goes with my name and my ever changing body and it will never look a certain way. There is a way that I will never look, no matter how much I wish for it, no button nose, no perfect chin, no face shape different from the heart one. I can thank the book, Perks of Being a Wall Flower, for explaining to me that I will always be pretty but in an unconventional way, and an unconventional beauty is beautiful in itself. I have big cat eyes, a bumpy nose that I feel is too long but my mom calls noble, big lips and strong cheek bones. This face is me, every time I look into the mirror, this is always going to be the face I see. Natalie Portman is adorable but that face is hers and it is never going to stare back at me in my own reflection. Every time someone tells me I look like my mother, it's because of this face and I finally take pride in it. Im even okay with the fact that I almost certainly have resting bitch face. Thats okay too. I always get a place for my purse next to me on the bus. Who doesnt want a permanent purse seat ? Heck yeah !
who cares
I bring the cultural/ethnic aspects of my self troubles in last, because it falls into the " ways that I am never going to look" category. There is this pervasive western look that I feel has begun to haunt little girls from all over the world who grow up with different skin tones and different features from their Barbies and Idols. Personally I never wanted to look like barbie, but I did wish I could look more like Belle from Beauty and the Beast and that's basically the same thing. It took a lot for me to identify with my own skin tone and culture and see the "exotic" label we tend to fall under as another word for beautiful and not just beautiful in an odd unusual way. The rise of women like Sophia Vergara, Gabourey Sidibe, Sandra Oh and Mindy Khaling in the entertainment industry is inspirational and note worthy to me, just to name a few. Mindy  is a new big-time idol of mine by the way. Here is this quirky, curvy, beautiful Indian woman who does her own thing and is loved for it.  That excites me for reasons I can't even explain, possibly because here is someone who hasn't let inhibitions about fitting into many minorities in the entertainment industry hold her back from fully being herself. I wish she had been around during my high school years when I was too self conscious to try out for the improv team or to wear the uncommon outfits and accessories I really wanted to.
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I believe that all women have an amazonian strength within themselves. To Set myself free from the constraints of what I wish I could be was to confront what and who I am, the combination of traits and features that reflect back to me in the mirror and the personal history that has made me the girl I am today. Free from wondering about how other people see me, it was time to see myself. Not as a work in progress, and not as a masterpiece or an exotic being, but unique and unconventional, someone who will quite happily never blend in with the crowd. Im okay with that. It's so very nice to be okay with it. Every day I become a little stronger in my own skin and a little less scared of being judged because I am a bit curvier or my nose is a little long. Every day I let go of those preconceptions of my place in this multifaceted world I live in. The ascending steps will continue to add to the feeling that I have begun to build within myself an Amazon, and I think George R.R. Martin's character Tyrion Lanister said it best :
"Never forget what you are. The rest of the world will not. Wear it like armor, and it can never be used to hurt you.”
It also helps to remember that what is attractive in this day and age is still pretty subjective, either everyone has it wrong, or no one really does. Im more than okay with that as well.
sexy