I’m vain.
This is something that I know.
I like my own face
My own body
My own personality.
And most of the time,
I think you should do to.
And you might think it’s easy
Being this vain.
“Of course you think that,” you say,
“Look at you!”
Well. Thank you for the compliment,
But, it’s not that easy.
It takes hard work to be this vain
It takes a childhood of hating myself.
Of being told from younger than five
That I’m nothing more than an object for consumption.
And that the fact that that hunger is never satisfied,
Has nothing to do with their appetite,
And everything to do with the fact that I’m not enough.
Of being told by one side that spots and blemishes should be hidden,
Because “You don’t want to be ugly do you?”
But being told by the other side they ‘prefer the natural look’,
Because “You don’t want to be a slag do you?”
It took years of thinking I was better than other girls.
Because you can’t be both smart and pretty
And I was definitely smart
And you should open books not legs but…
… Even all the girls in the books were pretty.
And that was always so important.
Because if you weren’t pretty you couldn’t get married and
If you couldn’t get married you’d die alone and
I didn’t want to die alone!
So being pretty was important!
But I was never pretty enough.
All the adverts told me so.
It took years of punishing myself.
Years of feeling like I didn’t deserve to like myself.
Of trying to rip off my skin to find a better me inside,
And then feeling nothing but worse because all I did was break myself even more.
Of hiding myself away because
How could I subject other people to my presence when even I couldn’t stand my own company.
It took years,
After it clicked one night
That I was wrong about everything.
I took years,
And will still take many more.
Of unlearning and relearning.
Of looking in the mirror and realising
I was stuck with this face,
And hating it was only helping those
Who made money of my own low self-esteem.
It took years of pretending,
Out of pure spite.
Telling myself I didn’t care what anyone else thought.
Pretending I was the best damn thing in room
So they could never see that they broke me.
Lying to those who lied to me,
Until my own lies became truth
And I realised,
I’m not only pretending I’m confident.
I actually kind of am.
I’m vain.
This is something that I know.
I love my own face,
My own body,
My own personality.
I love my scars,
My heart,
My mind,
My self.
I’m very, very vain.
And I think you should be to.
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