That you like about your appearance.
Why am I doing this? Well, because I spend a LOT of time running myself down. I am hyper-critical of my own appearance and since I’ve gained back a large chunk of my weight, I’m hyper-critical in over drive. Hyper-critical Over Drive. Shitty attitude..it would make a better cover band name.
I thought about writing a blog post all day long. If I had written what I THOUGHT about writing, you would be sitting there, wasting your fucking time, listening to me whine about accountability.
Sure, I have to be accountable. But I don’t have to fucking whine about it.
While I was forcing my big bad self to walk 45 minutes on the treadmill I thought that one of the things I could really do to help myself is to be a bit nicer to me.
I know I’m not alone, we’re good at running ourselves down. So, don’t think about it much, just tell me five things you like about your appearance. Not about yourself…how you’re a people person or you’re really good at crossword puzzles. I want to hear things you like about the way you look.
My feet. I fucking LOVE my feet. They are long and narrow with a nice high arch. I love getting pedicures. I LOVE wearing sandals. Sure, my heels tend to be a little cracked and ashy, but I don’t spend any time worrying about my fucking heels. The total package? Gorgeous.
My Funny Looking Nose. It’s largish and has a little ball on the end of it, with a cleft. Seriously, it’s an odd nose. I broke it when I was four years old and for most of my life, my funny looking nose hooked slightly to the left. I finally had to have that fixed due to chronic sinus infections. The surgeon met with me beforehand and told me that he’d be happy to ‘improve the appearance’ of my nose while he was straightening it out. I don’t recall being overly OFFENDED by his kind offer, however, I did decide in that moment that I didn’t WANT to change the look of my nose. It’s my fucking nose. I’ll keep it just the way it is.
The Scar On My Forehead. I had a scar WAAAAAY before Harry Potter had his. And mine DOES act up sometimes. I’m pretty sure it itches at work because the guy in the cubicle next to me is likely the anti-christ. I feel the same about my scar that I feel about my nose. It’s mine. It’s part of my face. I broke my nose when I was four years old and I gashed my forehead open when I was five. I recently went to a makeup event at my hair salon. The makeup artist was going to spackle up my scar. She had a GREAT product that filled in holes and gaps and crevices that are clearly not meant to be there. I told her to leave it alone. I like my scar.
My Tattoos. Okay, this borders on not counting. But, as this is my fucking blog, I can break any rule I want. Fucking hell…I just got a chill at the sheer power. HAHAHA. I have 3 tattoos and have thought about getting another one one day. Maybe I will. My mother is HORRIFIED by my tattoos. After I got the first one, she hummed circus music every time she talked to me. For MONTHS. She’s very funny, my mother… I got my first one at age 33 and the last one 4 years ago. I’m not close to being tired of them.
My Eyes. Mostly. Okay, when I’m tired and they are red and baggy, I am not as enamored with them, but usually? I have nice eyes. I spend every morning planning out the eyeshadow and the liner and the thickness of my mascara and when I’m done? I am ALWAYS happy with the way they look. I will even go out on a limb and say that they are pretty.
That very well may be the first time I’ve referred to myself as pretty in my entire life.
And I wrote it down.
Okay, if I can do this, so can you. Tell me how pretty you are. Tell me what you appreciate yourself.