Figuring it out as I go
There is quite a fun little site on the internet that analyzes your writing. The message that I wrote about living with a mental illness is apparently written like David Foster Wallace. Who I have never heard of. I sense a research and reading assignment.
My post about the challenge of loving our bodies is written like Cory Doctorow. Cool!
When the text of my post about my encounter with the salesperson is analyzed, it says that:
A woman’s beauty is supposed to be her grand project and constant insecurity. We’re meant to shellac our lips with five different glosses, but always think we’re fat. Beauty is Zeno’s paradox. We should endlessly strive for it, but it’s not socially acceptable to admit we’re there. We can’t perceive it in ourselves. It belongs to the guy screaming “nice tits.”
When I ventured onto the interwebs this morning I discovered it is I Heart My Body day. This is a campaign which encourages us to remember that we are beautiful, even if we do not satisfy a conventional media model of perfection.
The thing that we are encouraged to forget is that we are all different, it is much easier to market to a demographic where we are encouraged to think that we are just the boxes that we tick: BMI this, height that, race x, eye colour that. And more than that we are encouraged to assess ourselves on a surface level. It sometimes seems that society pays more attention to what we look like than what we are. We are encouraged to spend money on cosmetics and to feel inadequate, but not encouraged to be kind and compassionate, either with others or ourselves.
Today is a day where we take a stand against this. Today is a day where we are encouraged to remember that every single one of us is beautiful. Where even though we may not live up to some media image of perfection we are perfect just as we are. We can change ourselves if we want, but right now, we are good.
After I saw the fact it was I Heart My Body Today and made that decision to join in the rallying cry of remembering that I am special, and that my body is amazing, I made a conscious effort to take a look at the tops of my arms. If there is any part of my body that I could magically transform, it would be them. So, I looked at them and took a moment to appreciate the strength that is found inside them, the fact that my arms allow me to give hugs and cuddles, to cook, and to just carry on regardless. Our bodies are amazing, if you take a moment to think of all of the things that your body allows you to do, it is absolutely amazing, and it’s pretty easy to say I love my body.
In the post about I heart my body, it asks if we can name three things about our bodies that we love. I’ll start:
What do you love about your body, leave a comment and let me know.
Love and truth,
Trisha
I went to an upmarket mall today and I encountered a skincare product salesman. He is ordinarily quite charming and he convinced me to sit down for the sales pitch. We had a bit of back and forth, and then he told me that for nearly the price of a small country I could be the proud owner of certain skin care products that would make me feel absolutely amazing and look absolutely stunning.
At the moment, I am satisfied with how I look. My complexion is far from perfect and I am carrying a little bit of extra weight, but these are not on my list of things to deal with right now. Especially since part of the reason I am carrying a little bit more weight is the anti-anxiety and anti-depressant medications I am taking at the moment. Life is about choosing your battles, and this is not a battle that I am in the mood to enter at the moment. (Kind of like the Americans in the second world war, I am biding my time, or waiting for the bombs to drop.)
Anyway, eventually when I said that I was not interested in even one of the products (a rather pleasant exfoliating gel) this sales person lowered his voice and conspiratorially said that he would give me the product at his fifty percent off discount. Needless to say he was rather surprised when I still declined his offer, and after a little bit of back and forth, he insisted that I look in the mirror while he pointed out my flaws. But, thankfully, I had gotten my mind right before that, and when he pointed to the acne scars on my face, I saw battle scars of teenage hell (let’s be honest here, being a teenager is not fun) not as something to be ashamed of, but rather to be celebrated. Evidence of the fact that I am survivor, and I’ve come through. The rosacea on my cheeks as evidence of moments spent under a warm sun. This salesperson was very confused when I told him that I don’t need any products to make my face beautiful, it already is. He did not understand that, as Jessica Macbeth says in the Faeries’ Oracle, my face is not my truth nor is my truth my face. And my truth, just like my soul, is beautiful.
When I found myself beginning to waver I had another Amanda Palmer moment and my subconscious very loudly started singing at me that I am the person that I want to be. The last time I had such an Amanda Palmer moment was at the beginning of 2010 when I was looking for a dress to wear to my sister’s wedding, and I was being rather negative towards myself in the change room, and then I remembered how confident Amanda had been in her own body at the Golden Globes wearing a dress that generated a level of internet condemnation, especially coupled with the fact that she dared to not shave her armpits.
At this point, the salesperson finally clicked that this was a lost cause, and that I was clearly lying to myself because I needed his products. We then wished each other well, and I went away happy that this battle of the beauty had been won by the truly beautiful soul inside of me, rather than the insecure me. And wanting to remember this victory for a long, long time.
Love and beauty,
Trisha
P.S. My state of mind was probably influenced by this video reminding me that I am beautiful, just like you!
You Are Beautiful by Karen Walrond (http://www.chookooloonks.com/)
Once upon a time in September the South African Depression and Anxiety Group put out a call to those living with mental illness to speak out about their experiences. This was my response to the call. It was the bravest thing I have ever done.
I also wrote a Squidoo lens about living with generalized anxiety disorder and depression which includes the text of the message, as well as some other information which you might find helpful.
Love and courage,
Trisha
