Perspective

I’m feeling really introspective today. I wonder what people see when they look at me. I know that I walk through this world of ours with eyes tainted by all the experiences I’ve had: good and bad. I see things from the perspective of a single, white, chubby, sexually fluid, opinionated, intelligent, spiritual, immodest, moody young woman. But what do people see that when they look at me? I look at other people and despite my best efforts I judge them. I may keep those opinions to myself, but I do it nonetheless. So I wonder what people see when they look at me. What are they judging about me? My weight? My bad hair day? My obnoxious laugh? My arrogance? My nerdy t-shirts? My odd preference for fedoras? I always wonder. My parents taught me when I was young to ignore what others thought about me. That people will always judge me even if I try my best to be perfect, that my sheer perfection would be a point of contention.  That if I allow myself to care about their opinions that I was showing weakness. My father and I would sit and watch the news, and when the commercials came on he would ask me what they were selling. I never said the obvious: perfume, a car, clothes, technology. It was always: sex, money, fame, popularity, belonging, life, feigned happiness. He tried so hard to teach me to value the things in life that matter: family, friends, love, independence, strength of character, moral fiber, a good work ethic. I still value all those things, but the perfume and the clothes are definitely nice too. I’ve struggled for a long time with who I am. I don’t feel like I’m alone in this, we all go through puberty inundated with ideas of what we should and shouldn’t be. I grew up in a culture that worshipped a warped type of beauty: photoshopped women who look nothing like the finished product, tiny models who eat cotton balls soaked in water to keep themselves full, men who take steroids and workout six days a week so they can look like a Hollywood celebrity. Everyone is so unhappy being who they are that they lose themselves in all the twisted versions of themselves that they can create with makeup and photo editing and brand name clothes. So I wonder what people see when they look at me. Do they see the mask I create for the rest of the world? Or do they see the real me. Sometimes it’s hard to remember if my mask is actually that, or if I have become that person in reality. Maybe it’s all just me, a blended yet multi-dimensional self that changes depending on who I’m with. It sure seems that way at least. But back to my main point. In a world full of fake eyelashes and Spanx I really do wonder what people think when they see me, or even better when they interact with me. I have a solidly built identity now, it’s always growing and fluctuating but the core is still the same. My perspective of the world rarely changes, as a creature of strong opinions it takes a large proverbial slap to my intellect for me to change my mind about something. I assume other people are the same, that they have an amalgam of memories and experiences that shines through their eyes whenever they see something new. I’ve read blog after blog, article after article, about people discovering their inner beauty, about people transcending the petty standards of our culture to worship beauty on a much kinder level. But I just can’t see it in myself. I look around and I see beauty everywhere, especially in those I care about. In friends who push through life thinking they are weak and ordinary when all I see is that every flaw they have only adds to the perfection of their soul. But I can’t see it in myself no matter how hard I try. It’s a failing I think. It’s a weakness to not be able to see past my flaws and see the worthiness in myself. Professionally I have no problem doing this. I’m confident and assertive as an employee, also as a friend. But when it’s just me, standing there naked looking at my reflection in the mirror... I just don’t see it. I don’t see this luminous beauty that I see in others. I don’t want to get to know me... but maybe that’s because I already do.  I feel like there’s this disconnect within me, I can’t connect the me that is awesome and competent and funny with the girl I see in the mirror. I can’t connect my reflection with the girl people look up to, with the girl people hang out with, with the girl people miss when she’s not around. I know I am more than the sum of my parts. Intellectually, I know this.  But deep within me, where I dwell when I’m sitting home alone late at night when most girls are surrounded by friends or cuddling with their S.O... I can’t help but feel the disconnect. I can’t help but feel that if I am such a great person, why am I so unhappy with myself? How do people see me from their perspective? Because I certainly don’t think they see me the way I see myself.