maybe if i write about it — or my biutiful

*note: this may be one of my more personal posts, overflowing with self-disclosure..but given that I’ve already put many of my thoughts out there, I figured why not? It is still with the purpose of uncovering, discovering the art of happiness, if I/you haven’t already.

Outer appearance has always been an issue of struggle for me. Considering the social attitudes and preferences, I think I can safely say that I am not alone in this. I, in this journey, have somehow incorporated this aspect into my definition of happy. Why? I don’t know. I can give the psychological underpinnings explanation, or social pressures answer, or self-confidence assumption, but really, what will that matter? Gaining insight is great, but, if unaccompanied by change, the same state remains.

Reflecting back a little ways, it astonishes me to think of the 12 year old me who, overweight and all, had the confidence of someone without limits. I sang and danced in front of crowds, not thinking that I might be criticized, unworried by possibility of embarrassment, unmoved by thoughts of others looking better than I did. Then, as I changed, so did my all of the above. I now had taken notice that others took notice.  (and by now I mean my teenage-years-growth-spurt-high-school years and by others I mean the hormone-driven-teenage-boys-that-used-to-be-friends friends. I became aware of every inch of me. Regardless of how I looked, there was always something to change. Always something to make better. Always someone who was better, in my eyes. College yielded its own struggles and I continued to try for beautiful. the wrong way. I neglected my body for my thoughts. I had a moment of disclosure to one of my best friends during which I, for the first time, heard my own words aloud of what I had been doing. Constant self-criticism is horrible and unproductive. Even worse is the moment you acknowledge this aloud.  (*side note: this moment also involved some friendly firefighters whose station stood in the midst of the best place for underage drinking known to man…or at least to Texas – 6th street, Austin, Texas). So the following day, after an awkward and extremely vague conversation with my friend about the happenings the night before, I made some changes. Unfortunately, hiccups along the way have occurred, stumbling blocks placed in my way at various points. Most recently, and by most recently” I mean at this very moment, I have fallen into defining part of my happiness by how I see myself, physically and not based on my true uniqueness. I can blame the people I have surrounded myself with lately — those that prefer shorter skirts, tighter dresses, higher heels, flatter stomachs, fake breasts, perfect hair, perfect makeup. Or, I can blame myself. I think the latter seems more appropriate and more inline with my idea of personal responsibility. Buuut, change in struggle is never-ending so I don’t let that determine my every action.

This time, I’m trying the “right” way, whatever that means; eating healthy (which seriously annoys me), exercising (which I looove but hate if it’s for the wrong reasons…like maintaining physical appearance…so, I hate), not indulging (which, again, is splinter-in-your-finger-nails-on-a-chalkboard-annoying)….I’m over it. I want to be content with me. I see on the daily people who seem confident, content with their being, inside and out. I want that. I know I don’t struggle alone. This is an issue for many. Businesses have boomed from this struggle. Individuals have gained millions from this struggle. Many have caused great harm to themselves because of this struggle. My point after all this? I think redefinition is in order.

Biutiful — stolen from the movie title — I think I like this word better. This redefines it for me. Thinking of “beautiful” brings forward all the aforementioned superficialities…and criticalness that undoubtedly follows. But “biutiful” allows me to redefine it as I want, including in it what I think rather than what I am told to think.

so…what’s your biutiful?

Here’s mine. My biutiful is being:

loving…

intelligent …

caring…

passionate…

forgiving…

self-conscious …

confident…

ambitious…

human …

biutiful.

Surprisingly, or not, Google images yields everything from babies to women in thongs for “beautiful.” I think this image is more in line with my idea 🙂
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11 thoughts on “maybe if i write about it — or my biutiful

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