I put on this front that I don’t care what people think of me, but the truth is I do. But it isn’t totally black and white.
I don’t care about following the trends or what is considered cool. I say that I don’t care what people think about me. There are times I feel confident with myself, and to an extent, it’s true. But there are also times that I’m in a slump and feel incredibly insecure.
You know I have low self-esteem. I think it’s why I care so much about how I look to others. This is very embarrassing, but I am absolutely obsessed with how I look. I hate my face.
— I want to die but I want to eat tteokbeokki by Baek Sehee
I care so much about how I look, and I think it’s for a number of reasons:
Being unpopular in school. I wanted to do anything to change how I look in the limited ways available to me. It’s why I started straightening my hair daily at the age of 10 and bought clothes not because they made me happy, but so I could fit in. I wasn’t allowed to wear makeup until I was 16, so before that I edited makeup on myself with apps to ‘practice’.
The patriarchy. The notion that the value of women is solely based on their appearance and beauty. It’s a system ingrained in so much media and advertising that we consume. The beauty industry profits off of these insecurities and it’s why the industry as we know it keeps running.
Social media. I always have access to girls that look way better than me, showing the best parts of their lives while I’m sitting in my room doing nothing.
K-pop. Don’t get me wrong, I love the being a k-pop fan. But if I get into it too much, their unattainable beauty standards have me nitpicking my flaws and make me feel crap about the way I look.
I’m always looking at my reflection in any kind of reflective surface, everywhere I go. Adjusting. Fixing my hair. Judging myself. Anything to look ‘better’, but nothing will ever fill that unrealistic expectation I have for myself.
‘I wish I was skinnier, I wish I was taller, I wish my hair was shinier, I wish I had bigger eyes, I wish my skin was tanner, I wish I could do my makeup like that…’
At first, I posted nothing but selfies on Instagram so I could get validation from people. The likes. The comments. I was insecure, and they gave me the instant gratification and validation I craved. But they didn’t have a lasting effect, so one day I switched — I didn’t post my face at all on social media for 3 years. Not even Instagram stories. If I didn’t look perfect in my own eyes, I wouldn’t post anything at all.
All I see, is what I should be
Happier, prettier, jealousy, jealousy
— jealousy, jealousy by Olivia Rodrigo
Now that the lockdowns are a thing of the past, I’ve met people I met online in person, and I’ve been told I look different in real life. Not that I do any drastic editing or anything, but because you can’t see my height on Zoom and I don’t wear my glasses in selfies. And I always choose the pictures where I look the least like my real self — which to me is the prettier version.
It’s easy to sweep these feelings under the rug and just say ‘Love yourself!’ or some other empty phrase like that. I’m not saying affirmations don’t help, but trying to fix that unresolved self-hatred and trauma with a quote is like pasting a plastic band aid over a gaping wound.
I want to love my own face, but I like other faces so much that I can’t look pretty to myself. Sometimes I think I look pretty, but when people tell me I look pretty, I never agree with them.
— I want to die but I want to eat tteokbokki by Baek Sehee
I don’t know if there’s a point to this, but it feels good to let out. Laying out all my thoughts and emotions truly feels like therapy.
I hope that one day I can feel beautiful, and not compare myself to others in such a detrimental way.
The thing is, the people whose faces you like are probably beautiful, and the faces you don’t like can be beautiful, too.
— I want to die but I want to eat tteokbeokki by Baek Sehee
Until next time,
Lene