Today’s word prompt, shallow, has my name all over it. I feel like everything I write about on here is shallow and I’m okay with that. I don’t think I’m shallow in real life but this isn’t real life. This is a blog.
I won’t go into my whole sob story again. You can find plenty of that if you browse through my previous posts. (That sounds like a lot of fun. You should do that.) I will just say, again that during my teenage years, and a lot of my twenties too, I really didn’t have the extra time or extra money to think about shallow things like clothes, hair, and makeup. Luckily I was in my teens and early twenties at the time so I didn’t need near as much help as I do now.
I started caring about my clothes two or three years ago. Up until then I wore jeans and a t-shirt every single day. When I had to dress up for work, you honestly can’t believe the combinations I came up with. Over the years I have had so many “dress” shoes that can be best described as business pilgrim. I can’t believe it. I want to wail when I think of wasting my youth in polyester, pleated pants and matching polyester button up shirts that were actually horrible. I didn’t even care. They were cheap, they fit, and they “technically” met the dress code. I wouldn’t wear any of that shit now even if I could squeeze my fat ass into them. I should write an apology letter to Goodwill because that’s where they most likely ended up.
My hair, I started trying to care about a few years ago when I started going to my previous stylist. Again, there is a ton of information about that in previous blog posts. They are truly a treasure trove of shallow whining. I didn’t really start getting into makeup until earlier this year and now I’m all in.
I don’t think it’s bad. I was ashamed to care about the way I looked at first and that’s probably why it took me so long to start making an effort. I felt like spending too much time in the mirror was vain and petty. It is. That’s okay. You don’t always have to be deep all the time. You can lighten up. It’s not that serious.
Now, I feel like when I sit down to put makeup on, or do my hair, or I go to the gym and exercise/sit in a sauna or hot tub, that’s me loving myself and that’s a good thing. For a long time I didn’t love myself because I didn’t think anyone else loved me and I didn’t feel like I deserved to be loved. According to RuPaul, one of the few people on earth that spends more time on her makeup than I do, “If you can’t love yourself, how the hell you gonna love someone else?” I always listen to RuPaul. She’s so wise.
If you can’t love yourself, no one else is going to love you either. I don’t know which self-help book that’s out of offhand, probably all of them. I read my weight in self-help books, I pulled myself out of a dark depression, and yes, girl, yes, I learned to love myself. You can tell by how much time I spend trying to change everything about myself. I’m only half kidding.
In the book/movie Fight Club, Tyler Durden says, “Self improvement is masturbation.” Story checks out. It’s definitely loving yourself, not necessarily in a sexual way but I guess it could be if that’s your thing. When I take the time to care for myself, to fix my hair or apply creams and lotions to my face to prevent wrinkles, I am loving myself. When I apply makeup I am forced to look myself in the eyes and accept what I see. When I am pampering myself and primping, I am showing myself how much I care about me and I am, hopefully, teaching others the way that I should be treated.
So run and tell that.