YOUR CONCEPT OF MY BEAUTY.

First a thought – why when someone sees my photo online and they message me to tell me I’m beautiful/pretty/sexy, do they not say it to my face? Suddenly they are very encouraging of my exercise program because I “carry more weight than suits my bone structure”. I didn’t want their sycophantic praise to begin with, and I certainly don’t want their critique. Ok granted they don’t call me fat every time, but I really want to start poking my finger at their wild chest hair growth and point out that I will never be able to wear heels near them without towering above them, and that they smell funny, or need a pedicure. Don’t get me wrong, I could learn to love a Hobbit, but not when they are calling me an Umpa Lumpa!

Ok, I am grossly exaggerating but sometimes it’s an overall perception rather than hard fact in life?

Sometimes I feel pretty, sometimes I don’t. Sometimes I love my outfit, sometimes I don’t. I spent too much time in the sun this weekend and now my skin is an itchy cage for my soul. When it comes to sunscreen I’m damned if I do and stand a 50 % chance of being damned if I don’t. I’m allergic to sunscreen in my old age. I’m also partially allergic to the outdoor. I get hives. My lips dry out and crack. As I type my face feels like an itchy desert mask but I’ve drunk 3 litres of water and resorted to nipple cream as a moisturiser. Do I feel pretty – NO.

This is at risk of being a full blown pity party. Can’t I just be pretty? Can’t someone just say it for real who isn’t another girl or biologically linked to me? Yes, I’m probably just having a bad day, but for Franks Sake!!!!

 

Maybe I just need to accept that I'm pretty funny, pretty insane and pretty much me.