I’ve been really down on my appearance recently. I’ve had a few extra pimples here and there and I’ve gained 3-4 pounds (my weight fluctuates up and down in a 5 pound range, so it’s hard to track what I’ve actually gained), and I’ve been angrily obsessing over it.
In moments of extreme self consciousness, I always recall a terrible night in high school spent crying on the floor of my parents’ room about my horrible skin. That was my lowest moment.
As a perfectionist, I’m always buying and returning products, second guessing myself, putting myself down and trying to pick myself back up again. I also tend to be hardest on myself when I’m dealing with stressful situations that are largely outside of my control. And this year has been stressful! Mattress warranty issues, car maintenance bills, unexpected tax payments, loose tooth fillings, doctors’ appointments. It’s all piling up and when it does I turn to the easiest person to take it out on: myself.
I hate my hair, my teeth, my skin, my body. And I know that I’m being unreasonable and that very little has changed with my appearance in the past few months. I know it’s caused by more than just a real dislike of my physical traits. But it’s still hard. It leaves me feeling restless for change, for progress, for perfection. I keep asking myself what I can do to improve. Eat better, change skincare regimens, dye my hair. But I’m torn because part of my perfectionism insists that I perfect my character, and arrive at a place of total contentment with who I am sans all the cosmetic bells and whistles.
So I’m stuck. And I’m sure I’ll find a way out soon. But I’d like to stop second guessing myself. I’d like to face the fact that life, appearance-wise, is all downhill from here anyway. It’s ok.