I'm not sure who to blame. Is it because Eve ate the apple? Or is it our own doing? Have we more modern ladies placed this unnecessary pressure on ourselves? Despite who's at fault for it all, this fact still rings true: ladies- we are too hard on ourselves.
Lately, it's unavoidable. Our Instagram and Twitter feeds are flooded with girls apologizing for something that is not actually a fault. For example, yesterday, I was scrolling through Facebook and a precious photo of an old friend and her daughter caught my eye. I go to give it a "like" when I caught the caption in disgust.
"Excuse my no make-up and tired eyes, but isn't she just the cutest? #nomakeup #dirtyhair #atleastshespretty"
Since when is it a crime to walk around fresh-faced and exhausted? Last I checked, that bare skin and those under-eye circles were the marks of motherhood; and there is NO shame in that.
Ladies, listen. We have somehow tricked ourselves into believing that the world can see the tiny imperfections that we can't help but obsess over. A pimple on our chin, the size tag on our pants, how much our roots have grown (isn't that in style now?) - all of these things are hardly noticeable, if at all. In fact, until we ourselves point them out, no one really even picks up on them. My husband, a typical guy's guy, told me something pretty astounding the other day outside a dressing room. Since my pregnancy, a lot has changed about my body, including my dress size. After months of complaining that I had no clothes, he took me shopping. In the third store, I stumble out in tears, he starts to question the reason.
"I'm not buying anything." I tell him, "Nothing fits."
"Nothing fits?" he asks.
"Yes! All of the mediums I try on are too tight and they hug in all the wrong places."
"Then get large." he tells me, opening his hands in suggested confusion. Offended, I slam the door shut, and close myself into the tiny room, surrounded by cruel mirrors and a harsh reality. My body is different. Reluctantly, I have the attendant fetch me a large in my favorite top, and turn around to face the music. But when I look in the mirror, I'm pleasantly surprised. It looks okay, better than okay actually. It looks good.
I walk out of the dressing room, and look at my husband with open arms and shrugged shoulders as if to say "Well? What do you think?"
"You look great." he tells me. I felt great.
As I head back into undress, I hear him say, "And you look happy."
On the way home, I thank him for his willingness to spend the day with me as I melt down from shop to shop, obsessing over something so petty and vain. "You know," he says, "you shouldn't obsess over the size of your clothes. I'd have never known if you hadn't told me."
It seems like recently so much fuss has been made for women (and by women) to be taken seriously. Countless dollars have been spent campaigning for gender equality and pursuing uniformity in society and the workplace. However, with our hyper-apologetics and us ourselves pointing out our "insufficiencies", it's no wonder the world can't help but notice.
Ladies, stop apologizing for what is surface level when what you are marketing is more than skin deep. Quit worrying that someone may be offended by your full figure or imperfect complexion. Here's the truth, not only are they unaffected, but they are probably unaware. The greatest women in history, whether they be mothers, politicians, teachers, or the like, never bothered with such things. If anything, it's within them that they thrived.
“There is nothing more rare, nor more beautiful, than a woman being unapologetically herself; comfortable in her perfect imperfection. To me, that is the true essence of beauty.” -Steve Maraboli
