I forget when was actually I started to feel insecure about my appearance, but I guess it was really early. I read girly magazines when I was 9 or 10 years old, and each page seems to scream out the same thing: You are not perfect! You need …. and …. and…. plus…. to make you like this girl here, or that girl (blatantly comparing me and the model girl in the mag) The articles are rarely about how to manage money, or how to hone the reading skills, no.. not rare… never. 10 beauty ultimate hacks for you! (another comparison), 30 do’s and dont’s in the first date (telling me what to do). 5 surprising facts about …. *insert whoever celebrity of your choice (who need that kind information? ) and some other titles with the same tone of comparing, telling me what to do, what to think and what to wear plus tons of questionable and debate-able facts of life.
Well, insecurities invited me to many instances of wrong decisions all the way through my twenties and thirties. And all of these decisions surely impacted me in an immeasurable way, and I hope I have spent all of my youth-insecurities credit, like, I hope it has a zero balance now, or soon.
My self-love experiment survives on day three, and I think it’s easy for me to feel really good about myself now. Whenever I started to think about I don’t look good or my appearance is mediocre, I look into my camera phone and snap a photo of me, smiling confidently, and I say loudly (in my head) You are gorgeous, honey! you do you! See? no plastic on that face, everything about you is original, you are one of a kind, no one like you, you are irreplaceable. And it gives signals to my mind to cheer up. I love me. I love to say I love me now.