let’s talk insecurities

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Ok, so I know I’m hot.

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But that doesn’t stop me from feeling shitty about myself a good chunk of time. There is a lot expected for women to look like nowadays and now more than ever, women are truly expected to look IMPOSSIBLE (no one looks like Kim K, not even Kim K). But that isn’t really what makes me feel shitty; I feel like I, and a lot of my friends, don’t compare ourselves to celebrities, but instead to each other — to that smokin’ hot pic our friend posted on insta or that makeup look we saw on someone’s snapchat. At the end of the day, I don’t know a single real person that has the perfect body, or at least the body I’ve always wanted. What I really want is some sort of stitched up Frankenstein’s monster of all my different friends attributes pieced together on my body. Which is just insane!! Everything about this thought process makes no sense, it’s wild!!

I’ve been having these moments lately where I really come to understand how different we see ourselves compared to how others see us. I thought I looked pretty good in my pictures from Puerto Rico, but then my best friend’s friend asked her if I had ever modeled and I was blown the fuck away by that question. I had never thought for a second that I looked good enough to model for literally a n y t h i n g. What part of me does she find┬ábeautiful on my body? What part would she put into her own Frankenstein monster? Was I so focused on all my faults that I couldn’t see that beauty in myself?

I have had issues with my body since I first realized I had one. I remember being in 5th grade and hating my dark knees and my puffy nipples (like are you fucking kidding me??). I grew up slim and with no acne issues, so instead of just being happy I created some insecurities because that is how a developing brain works — the prefrontal cortex is still growing and judgment virtually does not exist. I’ve grown since then and had a lot of time during high school to never like or see a boy in that light to just work on myself. I have so many fewer and less petty insecurities as I did back then, but boy oh boy the ones I have now run deep as hell.

Being a black woman is hard. Being a black woman that is surrounded by non black people all the time is even harder. I love my white friends and love my non black poc friends endlessly, but the struggle is truly so different. Everything statistics have said about black women being the most unmatched group on dating sites (along with asian men) is so fucking true. Everything my parents have told me about having to work 10 times harder to get just as far is so fucking true. No matter how hot I feel internally nothing knocks that shit down more than being glanced past in a bar or being approached by that “one guy” that likes black girls or getting approached more when you have long hair than short natural hair. Everyone of these instances says to me that no matter how good I feel internally society will always be there to say “uh uh honey, that’s not the right kind of beauty.”

Even with all this straight up bs, I love myself. I well and truly love myself. I have worked way too damn hard to get to this point to let Johnny or Bobby not hitting on me make me feel like shit. Fuck that.

I’m taking every compliment I’ve ever heard to heart until I internalize it so hard it’s a part of me. That takes time though. I will not and do not have to be so body positive and love every part of me right now; it’s a process. I’m a process. I will become what others see me as and what I want to see myself as. I am surrounded by bomb ass people that think the world of me and I might as well feel that way about myself too.

Now here’s me looking bomb as fuck just to prove how hot I am ok:

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Yeah, I’m fucking hot. And I like myself.

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