Selfie Culture

People tell me I will feel better about myself if I accept the fact that I am pretty and my body has few flaws. I notice I take more “selfies” when I am feeling especially pretty or especially upset. I try to capture the moments when I feel good about myself so I can look back on them and know that they exist. A weird thing about our culture is that older generations complain when our generations post too much gloom and doom on social media, but they also complain when we post too many “selfies” or “groupies”, which for many people serve to capture the positivity that tends not to last nowadays. So we’re not allowed to be negative OR positive, essentially. We can’t point out the flaws in this world or the good things we see about ourselves and others.

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I know it can be annoying to see pretty much the same pictures of people over and over again, and it’s rough getting criticized by the older generation who says we’re attention-seekers whose happiness is dependent on how many likes we get on a given picture. I’m not going to say some people aren’t victim of that, but try thinking of it another way.

I’m not posting these pictures for you. I’m posting them for me.

I don’t care how many likes I get on my pictures because it doesn’t matter. I know who likes me, and I know who loves me, and pressing a button on a web site doesn’t change that.

I don’t care who sees my pictures, but it matters to me that I have the confidence to put them out there.

Because here’s the thing.

I already know I’m pretty.

I’ve known since I was little, and I’ve always appreciated the fact, because everyone kept telling me how pretty I was.

But it was never that important to me.

It actually got kind of annoying how hung up people got on that.

It got embarrassing. It made it seem like they thought that was the only important thing about me. How I looked.

It backfired. I started hating my face. My body. My shape. Everything about me on the outside.

I wanted people to appreciate what they couldn’t see. I wanted to be smart, to be clever, to be artistic, like my brothers were.

Because on the outside I’m perceived as a girl, the language about me changed.

It took me a while to reclaim my appearance. To remember that I’m not trying to be pretty for anyone.

Not even myself.

I’m not trying to be pretty at all.

I don’t feel like I have to be.

That’s not what’s important to me.

I post pictures of myself when I feel good about myself or especially upset, and I do it to remind myself that my ultimate goal is not the number of likes I get or how good my face looks.

My goal is to be loved and wanted for who I am inside.

And more than that, my goal is to make a positive impact wherever I go in this world.

And that has nothing to do with the way I look.

There are many reasons I still dislike the way I look but none of them are because I don’t think I’m pretty enough. I learned that about myself kind of recently. I don’t feel my current body reflects who I am on the inside, but it has little to do with societal conventions of beauty.

I already know I’m pretty. And yes, it’s nice to hear that, especially since current society’s definitions of “beauty” are so strict. My body has flaws that few people ever see, but I’m lucky that for the most part I happen to fall into this mold of “pretty.”

But that’s not important to me.

The reason I’m smiling in these pictures is because I know I’m a good person. I know that I try my hardest. I know that I’ve already started to make a positive impact. I know I have a lot to look forward to, a lot of work left to do. I have good people in my life. I have people that expect good things from me.

People tell me I will feel better about myself if I accept the fact that I am pretty. What they don’t know is that I’m past that. I’ve tried that, and at this point, for me, the “feel better” I get from thinking I’m pretty doesn’t last nearly as long, nor have nearly as much of an impact, as the feeling I get from reminding myself I have worth as a human being.

It was really hard getting to this point and I’m still struggling to stay there. I’m struggling daily to remind myself what’s important to me.

But I have moments to fall back on that help remind me. I take pictures like this to capture the light of those moments.

I don’t like everything about who I am. I don’t know many people that do, and those that do tend to be self-centered, terrified of life or boring. Knowing that I can dislike parts of myself and still like others gives me more strength than just looking in the mirror and thinking “Yeah, I’m pretty.” Being able to look at my reflection, turn away in dissatisfaction, and remind myself that actions speak louder than appearances, is what I need the most right now.

Being able to be dissatisfied with my appearance but know that it’s okay, that I have more important things to focus on, gives me more confidence than saying “I’m pretty” and believing it.

I dress up or down for myself. I opt out of makeup not because I believe it’s a scam but because I just don’t feel like wearing any. And when people tell me I should I shrug it off because that sentiment doesn’t matter to me. I might play around with it and enjoy it but right now I’m fine not putting any on in the morning.

I wear clothes that hide my shape because I happen to like loose baggy clothing. I think it’s more comfortable. And when people tell me it’s a waste of my curves I don’t pay much attention because I know what feels right to me.

And then there are days where I do feel like dressing up, I do feel like wearing skirts and leggings or fancy shirts, and when people tell me they wish I’d dress like that more often because I seem so confident, I look at them and wonder what is it about them that prevents them from seeing that same confidence when I wear my normal clothes. They may not see it but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel it.

I don’t care how I look to other people. Society tells me I should. That’s what I struggle with the most. Living in a society that tells me I have the wrong priorities, that I should care more what people say about how I look. But I don’t, really. I care what people say about my actions and my character.

I don’t know exactly where I’m going with this; it turned out a lot longer that I thought it would. But it’s my two cents for the day. I hope you got something out of it.