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Posts Tagged ‘#selfies’

It’s amazing how I always start everything with the best of intentions and then it fizzles out. I’m gung-ho and don’t really think it through when I make a commitment like my last post. I was going to post a selfie every day for a month. Sadly, that lasted 4 days. I was already sick of it. I couldn’t think of any way to be more original or interesting when taking the photos. I figured if I was that sick of doing it, others would be even more sick of seeing them. I don’t know if that’s true or not. I didin’t just skip a day with the plan to start back up the next day. On the 5th day, I didn’t post and then said, “I’ve ruined my streak. I give up.” My selfie plan went the way of every diet I’ve ever started. I can do it for a few days and then it turns into too much work. Or too much of a bother. Or I don’t see results.

I was doing the selfie thing to try to get myself over my selfie phobia and self hatred. 4 days isn’t going to cut it. It just shows how lost I am with coming up with my own solutions. Now I’m even more embarrassed that I didn’t follow through. I should’ve known better. I have a history of terrible follow through. If I promise something to an individual, I move heaven and earth to keep my word. Of couse, I’ve pretty much quit making promises because I don’t like the pressure. But a promise I make to myself, I don’t feel the need to honor. It goes back to me thinking I’m not worthy of it. It’s a Catch-22. This seems to be a common problem. I see others swear an oath to a new start of “eating clean”, a “90 day cleanse” or working out daily. They post their meals and workout outfits like they were entering a contest. A week or so later, they’ve put it on the back burner and soon it disappears entirely. Then a month later, they are pledging allegiance to the same thing again. I can’t do that. I’ve failed at the selfie thing even though I had some wonderful support from people on Twitter, Instagram and the blog. Now I’ll just try to post a pic when I can force myself. But I know there’ll be days where I won’t want to. I’m not going to make myself. This brings my expectations of success in the final outcome way down. To the point of impossible.

My knee has been all hosed up. A few weeks ago I was squatting in front of the kitchen sink. It sounds like I was going to take a dump there but alas, no. (Blame my train of thought on hearing about people in Walmart and other stores dropping trou in public and doing their business. I can’t even imagine, nor do I want to.) I was trying to reach way in the back underneath the sink. Like doing the deepest knee bend ever. I’ve always squatted as need be, sometimes it’s easier than bending over because I can see things head on instead of upside down or sideways. At the time, I felt excruciating pain. Almost like a burning and tearing. I had to pull myself up. Both knees were sore for awhile but I didn’t think much about it. Then a few days later, my left knee was painful as heck. On the side and behind the knee. Going down into the calf. I have too much to do to just rest, so I walked the dogs, carried laundry up and down the stairs, etc. Just business as usual. Now it’s worse than it was a week ago. I don’t want to have to go to the doctor or have surgery. That’s not an option when I have to care for Mom. It just feels like another thing to add to my list of Reasons To Be Depressed. I’ve never been one to have knee problems. I guess that makes me lucky. It gives me new appreciation for my MIL & SIL who have had knee replacements. I don’t want a new knee. I just want mine to work again! I think I must be the most impatient person in the world when it comes to healing or being sick. Heaven help the world if I ever end up in a wheelchair because I’d have to do some heavy plotting to keep myself on deck.

Hubby went to a Super Bowl part after work on Sunday. I was invited too but had to decline because Mom can’t be home alone at night anymore. I didn’t pout but was hurt that there was a time when hubby wouldn’t have gone anywhere without me. I guess I shouldn’t take it personally? Maybe he’s sick of missing things too.

This blog post serves no purpose except to acknowledge my failure. I’m not going to beat myself up about it. If I had follow through, I’d be a millionaire, thin and have several published books. Instead, I’m just a regular schmuck who lets herself down. Maybe there are worse things to be…

 

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There’s been a #20beautifulwomen challenge going around on Instagram for some time now. You’re supposed to post a picture of yourself when you feel most beautiful and then tag 20 other women to participate. Literally these selfies are all up in my feed. I’m not a huge fan of selfies–either for myself or others. I don’t mind  people posting pictures of themselves but it’s hard for me to understand several times a day like there’s nothing else out there as important. I haven’t been tagged which either means that people know I don’t go for that nonsense or they don’t think I’m beautiful. I’ve been dreading possibly getting tagged and having to explain my aversion to having my picture taken. Surprisingly, maybe a third that are doing it say they dislike having their picture taken. That is hard for me to believe. They are some of the prettiest out there.

I haven’t spent a lot of time thinking about this topic but the conclusions I came to surprised me. Some of the people who did the #20beautifulwomen challenge said things like “everyone is beautiful” or “all women are beautiful” or “we’re all beautiful”. I disagree wholeheartedly. NOT everyone is beautiful physically. There are a lot of unattractive or downright ugly people. Maybe not so much on Instagram but out in real life. You’ll see people that will make your skin crawl. A lot of the physically beautiful people are shallow or ugly inside which negates their beauty, at least in my eyes. Then there’s the people who you don’t consider beautiful at first but as you get to know them, you’re kind of struck by their beauty in every day things. Like their generosity or kindness makes them beautiful. Or how they care for their children with such love or how they handle customers or coworkers with so much humor and grace. Some people are beautiful on the outside, some are beautiful on the inside and some are beautiful inside and out.

I’ve tried to examine why I personally hate having my picture taken. It’s not just how I look physically. I don’t really think I’m ugly even though I’m overweight and have any number or imperfections. A large majority of pictures I have my eyes shut in which makes me look like a dork. That’s beside the point. I don’t like having that kind of attention where I know I’ll be judged. All this time I thought it was self-loathing. I don’t really like myself. I searched on WordPress under self-loathing and it has people who REALLY hate themselves and are into self-mutilation and self harm. That is so far from me. I don’t want to hurt myself in any way, shape or form. I appreciate the body I have and that I’m able to walk, talk and function as a normal person. I don’t take those things for granted. I do have constant feelings of self doubt. What it boils down to is  I don’t believe in myself.

Beauty is nothing more than confidence. If you are a confident person, you will come across as beautiful. You will project the image that you believe you are beautiful. You are in charge and know what you’re doing. Most of the time I feel like I’m posing as an adult. An imposter who is just winging it as I go through life.

I have a whole other post I need to write about being overweight and what that does to a person’s psyche. Especially a lifetime of being fat and all that goes with it. To shorten the story some, I’ll just say that I was fat since birth. As kids will, I was constantly teased and called Fatso. It made me cry. I cried a lot. I felt powerless over my weight and powerless over how others saw me. I was bullied by 3 different kids in our neighborhood, one included daily beatings. Society was different back then and it was just accepted. An older 6th grade girl got up in my face one day (about 2 inches away) on the school playground at recess. I wasn’t older than 3rd grade but may have been even younger. I didn’t know this girl from Adam and she felt the need to say, “You are so ugly.” Wow. It was unprovoked and I had no response. I just started to cry. Looking back, this girl was super homely herself but I would never go out of my way to hurt someone like that, even if it was true.

Obviously, I have gotten over the above incident and the majority of the other teasing and name calling. However, it did change me in a profound way. I became even shyer. I was a shy kid already and this just made me go into my shell more. I had friends but for the most part, I tried to blend into the woodwork. If someone felt the need to tell me I was ugly, I needed to not be seen. To stay out of the way and not make people have to look at me. When I got to Jr. High School (7th-9th grade), it was a new start and I rose above all this. I even became somewhat popular and loved school. This lasted until I went to High School.

Anyway, feeling that kind of judgement makes me self conscious about everything I do in public. To this day, I’m horribly self-conscious. I don’t know how to fix it. Even making someone wait behind me while I count out change in the checkout lane makes me nervous. I feel like I’m not worthy of holding them up. Or any number of things I might do in front of someone, I feel like even if they don’t say anything they are thinking bad things of me. I don’t talk about this but it is always there.

I don’t feel worthy as a human being a lot of the time. I avoid mirrors. I was raised without a lot of compliments. My dad never gave compliments and my mom was raised without getting them so for her, the best thing she could say was that I looked, “Clean from home.” My dad never told me he loved me which is par for his generation but it still made me insecure. My mom told me and I believed her. I always felt like parents are supposed to love you and when one of them can’t, it has to be my fault. Well, after my dad died, I figured out it had nothing to do with me. However, it still had been ingrained in me for my entire childhood. I would hear my dad talking about my acne or how I needed to lose weight. Even my mom wanted me to lose weight the worst way. I have never wanted to be loved for physical beauty. The Amish side of me wants to be loved because I’m a good person. My husband has told me I’m beautiful (once in a blue moon) but I have a hard time believing it. He also likes to tell me, “You’re such a good person.” I believe him but wonder why no one else notices.

After reaching adulthood, no one dared say outright how fat I was or call me Fatso. But I would catch people talking about me behind my back. Like in a bathroom stall at work. I almost had a panic attack when I heard 2 women I hardly knew talking about me and just picking me apart. They didn’t know I was in there and I stayed in there until they left so they never knew. These 2 women were about the same size as me, maybe a bit bigger. They dolled themselves up though with makeup and hairspray. I just didn’t measure up to their standards.

I don’t know how to love myself. Or even like myself. There’s parts of me that I like but not my looks. It wouldn’t matter if I lost weight, I would still feel the same way about myself. I know this because when I was younger, I did lose weight and I still had no confidence or self esteem.

I admit I am a bit jealous of those with high self esteem. Those that can look at themselves in a mirror and think they look fabulous. I’ve often wondered how everyone else gets such a high opinion of themselves. Do they give themselves pep talks daily? Tell themselves how wonderful they are if no one else will? There’s a woman about 650 lbs. on Instagram who people are constantly telling her “you’re so beautiful”. I don’t get it. I’m not saying she couldn’t be beautiful at that weight. I don’t know if they really mean it since to me, she’s not. But she acts like she believes it and agrees with them. I wouldn’t want people telling that to me unless they truly felt that way and even then it would make me uncomfortable.

There’s a book I heard about called “Unworthy: How To Stop Hating Yourself” by Anneli Rufus. If anyone’s read this and think it would help, let me know. Otherwise if you’ve gone through anything similar or know what steps to take to make me like myself, do tell. I’m all ears! In the meantime, I’ll be looking at all the selfies for the #20beautifulwomenchallenge and feeling left out and out of place. I should be used to it by now, I’ve had enough practice.

 

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Below is the post  I wrote on 12/12/12. I had something else I published around that time so was going to wait a few days to post this. Then the Newtown, CT tragedy happened. At that point, I didn’t want to post anything. Everything seemed so trivial to what the families of those children were dealing with. The country as a whole was wrapped up in what had transpired to the point of not having much interest in a nything else.I didn’t want to write a post about the shooting and its aftermath because there were thousands of others doing that already and much better than I could. There are so many blogs out there that delve deeply into painful subjects to the point where I get depressed and tearful reading them. It’s almost exhausting for me to invest so much emotionally in the painmongering bloggers. I never want my blog to be a downer for people. I want it to be food for thought, not make you feel like your heart’s been ripped from your chest.
 
I have a million other posts on my brain that are more timely or that I wanted to write before the year comes to a close. Instead I find myself fired up enough to write about Narcissism. I’m using a capital N because a small n just won’t show how big of a deal this is. My online dictionary app defines the noun as: an exceptional interest in and admiration for yourself. This has reached epic proportions in our society. I was taught that everyone should love themselves. I don’t and never have. I can like parts of myself and maybe love things I’ve accomplished but I have never been able to love myself. It’s not anyone’s fault that I can’t except maybe my own. I’m not bringing this up now to delve into the depths of my soul to uncover why I don’t love myself. That’s for another post.
 
Instead I want to marvel at how others are able to so easily love themselves. First off, I think having a blog is a form of self-love. A person has to think they have something worthy for others to read. So with the number of blogs out there, there’s a healthy appreciation for just about every blogger’s writing skills, sense of humor, ability to turn a phrase, bring out the pain from their past or the optimism to look for the best in every situation. That’s not really at issue here either. Even if a person dwells exclusively on their own feelings, activities, opinions, that doesn’t make them a narcissist in my eyes. To me, I have never had the level of self-confidence where I seek out attention on my looks. Part of this is from being fat all my life. I’ve never reached my goal weight but have come close. I feel like the same person no matter what. On Instagram and Twitter, there is a constant stream of self portraits (selfies) flooding in. I understand people wanting to document where they are and what they’re doing at all times. It’s a sign of the times. It’s the constant barrage of pictures taken in a bathroom mirror or while sitting in the car, etc. It’s like bragging. Some of the people that do this I do find beautiful. Others could not be considered attractive by any measure. Yet they all think they need to be seen every 10 minutes. I don’t think I’m jealous per se. Maybe just jealous that they have such a high opinion of themselves. I happen to think there’s nothing more beautiful than someone who doesn’t know they’re beautiful. They don’t flaunt their looks, they just live and people notice.
 
This isn’t a complaint as much as it is commentary on the importance of looks in our society. People no longer dress up like they once did yet I swear they have more self-esteem than any generation before them. In a world that can be cruel and judgemental, I guess it’s good that people are tooting their own horns. To a degree! I’m not a vain person by any stretch and sure wouldn’t want to ever be described as shallow. Nowadays I wonder if being shallow is considered a bad thing anymore. People seem to not hide their vanity or be ashamed at how superficial they are. Remember how it counts just as much what’s inside a person as outside? If we could take a picture of what’s in our hearts and the goodness inside us, would people still post a million pictures even if the contents of their souls were empty? Maybe everyone thinks they’re good looking even if they’re not. Sure, looks are subjective. What one person thinks is beautiful, someone else might be repulsed by. Maybe everyone thinks they’re a good person, even if they’re not. Like pedophiles, arsonists, rapists, murderers, etc. all thinking they are deep down a good person. I’m not buying it. If they do, they’re delusional. Maybe as far as looks go, I need to let people be delusional about how good they look. Instead of writing a blog post, just unfollow them.
 
I don’t want people I follow or the people I like on Instagram to think I’m talking about them. From what I’ve noticed over the years, the ones who get overly sensitive when you complain about something are the ones who aren’t doing it! The ones who do it will not think I’m talking about them! In any case, when someone takes a nice picture of themselves on Instagram, I “like” it if I think they look nice. I give compliments freely, when in the mood. I don’t know if that’s part of why people are putting self-portraits on there. If they are itching for compliments. The ones who get the most are probably giving the least. I think everyone who gets one compliment should have to give 2! To anyone. If you don’t get any, you have to give 3. I’m not talking fake compliments, I’m talking genuine. You can find something you like about someone else, can’t you?! If not, you might be a narcissist. 😉

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