Good people of the Internet, I know you not so I don’t feel bad about admitting this: I am a what could be considered as a slob. Not in the sense that I live in a dumpster filled with old cookie wrappers and Mets stat sheets (although that has happened on occasion) but in my appearance. What I mean is that if I don’t really try, I don’t look presentable to society. And although I pretend that I don’t really care, I hate to admit it, but I do.
Let me paint you a picture. With my words, because let’s face it; I pretty much suck at actual painting. I’m the quintessential ‘looks OK albeit a bit weird at school and acts like a
relatively normal person but as soon as she gets home slips into her cosy bathrobe and padded slippers to curl up and watch the highlights of the game with a chocolate bar.’ When I’m home, I don’t care about how I look anymore, there’s no one to judge me, except for my parents, my brother, the dog and the cat. Actually you’d be surprised how judgemental my cat can be.
I interact everyday with people who look perfect, without a hair out of place (well, take my dad out of the mix, he looks like Einstein) and my hair looks like a rat’s nest. Even though I have a hairbrush at the ready permanently in my bag, my problem is far from solved. I cut it to just over my shoulders in an attempt to restrain it… and it laughed in my face. Like, not literally, because I would freak out (where the hell would the mouth be?) but you understand. It didn’t work.
I started putting makeup on in 9th grade because I hoped that it would distract the eye from how red and flustered I got when my crush spoke to me. At first it worked, although only because I put waaay too much on and I looked like a Barbie doll. I toned it down and realized that it actually really helped my overall appearance. In a year, I haven’t learned much; I still stick my mascara in my eye every morning and have abandoned the idea of ever wearing eyeliner because it makes me look like a demented raccoon, but I have learned that a little blush, lipgloss and mascara can do wonders for your self-esteem.
No matter how much I wish I didn’t care, I still find it important to look, well, acceptable in front of other people. Even though the saying says don’t judge a book by its cover, people do. In the street, people judge you with their eyes. At school, people judge you by your voice. It’s tough, but it’s life. And as someone who looks naturally like a… um… Plain Jane, I find reality hard to swallow.
But all in all, I am who I am, and even if I don’t look like the perfect poster girl, I’m alright. Acceptance is important to me, and although I will always tweek my hair and mess with my concealer (have you ever tried making drawings with it during class? Try it, it’s fun! Or, you know, funner than strictly decreasing functions) if people can’t accept me, then I can’t accept them, and frankly, they’re not worth it.
Live long and prosper \V/
The Mostly Confused Teenager.
PS: sorry for the depressed teen rant tonight, tomorrow will be something a little lighter 😉