erirae
Be Beautiful In This Skin, Love The Skin I'm In
Hello hello hello!
Yes, I agree that my lack of flickr-ing over the course of the past few months has been shameful, to say the least. My pro account has expired, but that will have to wait to be taken care of next paycheck, sad to say!
I’ve been a busy bee when it comes to my personal life since the last time we’ve seen each other, but that’s a long story for another day, I’m afraid.
Inspiration, if that’s what you’d like to call it, struck me while I was in the shower of all places tonight. I do realize it is nearly 3 o clock in the morning, and with work early on tomorrow’s horizon, I really should prioritize and head to bed. But my mind just starting whirling, and as any artist can relate, it can’t be completely shut out until documented.
I’ve only been 18 years old for a little over a month. I can’t exactly classify myself as “grown up” now, yet every person around me seems to say so. And that led me to thinking just how much I’ve changed in the past 4 years.
Forgive me for using a quote from a terrible movie (although I love the crap out of it’s cheesiness) but “Hell” really is a teenage girl. My adolescent years were far from the picture perfect paintings you see on television and movies. I wanted those years to be something near a scene of “Clueless”. Okay, maybe not so much the hooking up with a step-brother thing, but you get the point. As a youngin’, I always associated being a teenager with the most fun of your life. And while some girls do get this opportunity, I was one of the many that did not.
I was a late bloomer. Like, seriously late. I was that girl who didn’t need a bra until nearly the end of 8th grade, but started wearing -AA ones early to avoid gym class embarrassment. Being short , beyond the palest shade of white, and dusted everywhere with freckles, I was a walking target for the hellish bully girls.
Now I’m not saying my middle school years were a complete travesty, I met the girl who is still my best friend to this day in 7th grade. A few things in particular, however, did lead me to have a negative body image of myself for quite some time, as many girls do. When puberty did hit, it was not kind. I was plagued from then on with acne problems that, while not as severe now, still haunt me from time to time. I didn’t necessarily grow in height, but I did gain two cup sizes and a few pounds of hips and booty on top of that.
I stayed pretty awkward throughout high school and still have quite a few quirks, I’m still only 5 feet tall to this day and the only time my skin has ever even thought about tanning was during the constant sun exposure that is band camp. And even then, it mostly only burns.
Looking back it wasn’t so serious and is pretty much what any teenager goes through, but being that young girl was rough. It’s hard enough growing into the person you become during that time, and worrying YOURSELF about your imperfections, but having others point them out, mock them, and feel the need to tear you down because of them just makes the ride a thousand times bumpier.
And of course all throughout my struggles I had the best Mom a girl could ask for as an ally. She constantly provided me with encouraging words and support. The meanies at school were just jealous, one day I would appreciate what made me different and other people would too. I always ALWAYS shrugged this off as her just saying what she’s supposed to say as a Mom.
I recently had a run-in with one of the previously mentioned middle school bullies at my work. While she was polite (although I’m 98% sure she didn’t recognize me), the 13 year old girl in me still cringed and wanted to flee away to safety at just the sight of her.
It’s been a long road throughout those years, but I’ve come to realizations, just as my special momma said I would. While I’m nowhere near perfect or even as gorgeous as, let’s say …. Dianna Agron (I’m just a tad obsessed with her :P), I’m okay with that. Because I’m me, and I myself AM beautiful. It’s not shameful to feel beautiful even with your imperfections. It’s not as vain or conceited as a lot of people like to make it out to be. As a Mass Communications student, I see firsthand what the media does, and that’s exactly the opposite.
It took a lot for me to stop focusing on my flaws 24/7, and of course I still do it from time to time, but I can honestly say that these days, I feel pretty, sexy, beautiful and all of the above with no effort, and I can’t stress what an amazing feeling that is. I love with the porcelain, dotted and often red skin I am in.
Documenting my exact thoughts is pretty hard, ya’ll. I wish I could pluck the words and feelings from my brain a bit easier, but this is 2 pages in word … so I think you get the point.
And if anyone else is reading this, please know that no matter what you do, you are beautiful too. If I could just change one person’s perception, I’ll feel like my rambling tonight was worth something. :)
Be Beautiful In This Skin, Love The Skin I'm In
Hello hello hello!
Yes, I agree that my lack of flickr-ing over the course of the past few months has been shameful, to say the least. My pro account has expired, but that will have to wait to be taken care of next paycheck, sad to say!
I’ve been a busy bee when it comes to my personal life since the last time we’ve seen each other, but that’s a long story for another day, I’m afraid.
Inspiration, if that’s what you’d like to call it, struck me while I was in the shower of all places tonight. I do realize it is nearly 3 o clock in the morning, and with work early on tomorrow’s horizon, I really should prioritize and head to bed. But my mind just starting whirling, and as any artist can relate, it can’t be completely shut out until documented.
I’ve only been 18 years old for a little over a month. I can’t exactly classify myself as “grown up” now, yet every person around me seems to say so. And that led me to thinking just how much I’ve changed in the past 4 years.
Forgive me for using a quote from a terrible movie (although I love the crap out of it’s cheesiness) but “Hell” really is a teenage girl. My adolescent years were far from the picture perfect paintings you see on television and movies. I wanted those years to be something near a scene of “Clueless”. Okay, maybe not so much the hooking up with a step-brother thing, but you get the point. As a youngin’, I always associated being a teenager with the most fun of your life. And while some girls do get this opportunity, I was one of the many that did not.
I was a late bloomer. Like, seriously late. I was that girl who didn’t need a bra until nearly the end of 8th grade, but started wearing -AA ones early to avoid gym class embarrassment. Being short , beyond the palest shade of white, and dusted everywhere with freckles, I was a walking target for the hellish bully girls.
Now I’m not saying my middle school years were a complete travesty, I met the girl who is still my best friend to this day in 7th grade. A few things in particular, however, did lead me to have a negative body image of myself for quite some time, as many girls do. When puberty did hit, it was not kind. I was plagued from then on with acne problems that, while not as severe now, still haunt me from time to time. I didn’t necessarily grow in height, but I did gain two cup sizes and a few pounds of hips and booty on top of that.
I stayed pretty awkward throughout high school and still have quite a few quirks, I’m still only 5 feet tall to this day and the only time my skin has ever even thought about tanning was during the constant sun exposure that is band camp. And even then, it mostly only burns.
Looking back it wasn’t so serious and is pretty much what any teenager goes through, but being that young girl was rough. It’s hard enough growing into the person you become during that time, and worrying YOURSELF about your imperfections, but having others point them out, mock them, and feel the need to tear you down because of them just makes the ride a thousand times bumpier.
And of course all throughout my struggles I had the best Mom a girl could ask for as an ally. She constantly provided me with encouraging words and support. The meanies at school were just jealous, one day I would appreciate what made me different and other people would too. I always ALWAYS shrugged this off as her just saying what she’s supposed to say as a Mom.
I recently had a run-in with one of the previously mentioned middle school bullies at my work. While she was polite (although I’m 98% sure she didn’t recognize me), the 13 year old girl in me still cringed and wanted to flee away to safety at just the sight of her.
It’s been a long road throughout those years, but I’ve come to realizations, just as my special momma said I would. While I’m nowhere near perfect or even as gorgeous as, let’s say …. Dianna Agron (I’m just a tad obsessed with her :P), I’m okay with that. Because I’m me, and I myself AM beautiful. It’s not shameful to feel beautiful even with your imperfections. It’s not as vain or conceited as a lot of people like to make it out to be. As a Mass Communications student, I see firsthand what the media does, and that’s exactly the opposite.
It took a lot for me to stop focusing on my flaws 24/7, and of course I still do it from time to time, but I can honestly say that these days, I feel pretty, sexy, beautiful and all of the above with no effort, and I can’t stress what an amazing feeling that is. I love with the porcelain, dotted and often red skin I am in.
Documenting my exact thoughts is pretty hard, ya’ll. I wish I could pluck the words and feelings from my brain a bit easier, but this is 2 pages in word … so I think you get the point.
And if anyone else is reading this, please know that no matter what you do, you are beautiful too. If I could just change one person’s perception, I’ll feel like my rambling tonight was worth something. :)