It seems I’ve managed to let Oh So Mint pass me by, (again) over the past few weeks – and it wasn’t that I didn’t want to write on here, it’s just that I didn’t know what to write. The truth is, I’ve been going through a little bit of an identity crisis recently, letting my insecurities take over and I’ve been left feeling a little forlorn. Of course, we’ve all been there haven’t we? We’ve all fallen down the ‘caring too much what people think hole’ and have struggled to get out. There are times when we’ve questioned who we are – when we haven’t known our own self worth. Everyone has insecurities, that much I know for certain – it’s how we choose to deal with them that is important. So I’ve been thinking of ways of putting my thoughts into words – of putting pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard) for a while now. And here I am – I’m finally attempting it. This post is in honour of simply being good enough…
The past few weeks have been tough for me, in so many different ways and when the going gets tough, the over-thinker in me takes over. I’ve always been aware of my insecurities – really aware and unfortunately I never developed that thick skin that keeps you from letting things get to you. This year has been an adventure (to say the least), but I’ve learnt so much already. I’ve learnt so much about myself, so much about the world – I’m constantly aiming to improve myself. I want to be the best version of me that I possibly can be. I mean don’t we all?
Unfortunately, as humans we are our own worst enemies – there are times when we think that the world is against us, when in reality the only person that can ever truly hold you back is yourself. Growing up I was never particularly insecure about who I was as a person, if anything I was pretty happy with that part. But body insecurities? Sure I had plenty! For as long as I can remember I’ve been conscious of my body, which is something I’ve always talked quite openly about.
When I was at school, I let my insecurities show – people could tell that I was insecure. (to be fair, what teenage girl wasn’t?!) You name it – I (at varying times) hated it. My pea head, my rat-like features (so I’ve been told in the past!), my stumpy eyelashes, my (lack of) bum – the list of things that I didn’t like about myself was virtually endless. But my biggest downfall? The girls. Some may say that they’re a blessing, I say that they’re, without any shadow of doubt, the bane of my life. To the point that whenever I had to get measured I cried and spent my life walking around like The Hunchback of Notre Damn trying to hide them. I even asked my best friends to sellotape them down before sports day so that the boys wouldn’t take the piss out of me when I ran. (No word of a lie). The struggle was real.
And now? Well as I’ve got older, I’ve started confronting my insecurities, or at least trying to. Sometimes though it’s easier said than done and I have days when I tend to hide behind the baggiest top that I can find and hope that no one ever realises that I’m seriously packing in regards to the boob department, or that my tummy isn’t flat. I’ve mentioned in a few of my previous posts that I’m at a point in my life (again) when I’m not happy with how I look and I’ve realised that I just want to be happy in my own skin.
I think my biggest problem with being busty is that I’m not overly tall (5’4), I have hips and a relatively small waist. None of those things are an issue, if anything they’re pretty alright as it goes – the problem is that I don’t carry weight well. Any weight I put on goes straight to my hips and tummy, which consequently makes me feel/look dumpy. It doesn’t help that I’ve always felt that having big boobs makes me look bigger than I actually am. Finding clothes that fit your frame properly is a challenge in itself – tops for example, are either either baggy at the tummy or so tight you look like you just have one singular boob that has been completely smushed in the process of getting the top on.
In my head I feel like ‘getting the awkward part out of the way’ is the easiest option. Almost telling people, “yes I have a massive rack and no they haven’t ever given me backache.”, or “I promise I have a waist, I’m not one never ending boob. Please don’t think I’m dumpy!” You know, making sure they know that I’m fully aware of the situation and then we can move on. When actually, people couldn’t really give less of a shit – I mean why would they? That realisation hit me like a freight train – in the grand scheme of things, I’m not a big deal. Neither are the girls, or my chipmunk cheeks, or the fact that my thighs touch. But to me – those things are a big deal and I can’t help but wonder if I’ll ever shake those insecurities off? Do you take your insecurities to the grave? Or is there a point when we just man up and get over them? Just shrug them off and kind of get on with it.
I read a quote recently that really hit home: “It’s not who you are that holds you back. It’s who you think you’re not.” After all – I can change my dress size, I can stop my thighs from rubbing when I walk, I can get a boob reduction (although the removing of the nipple… no thanks!) but more importantly, I can change how I look at myself – what I think of myself. We all have insecurities and that’s okay. We are all individual, quirks and all and we should all be able to say with our hand on our heart that we love ourselves, from the inside-out. Sure, I can sit here and type this – but can I actually do that myself? I’m not too sure I can – yet.
Now, I know I’ve said it before and I’m sure I’ll say it again – social media is both a blessing and Satan in disguise. It’s so easy to forget that social media is simply the highlights. The pretty bits, the best bits and you know those perfect girls with the perfect hair, perfect house and basically all-round perfect lives? They have insecurities, they have those moments of identity crisis, they have things that get them down about themselves too – do you know why? They’re human. Now, I admit that there have been times when I’ve looked at people who I follow and I’ve questioned whether I’m interesting enough, whether I simple am enough. Why am I admitting this? Well, I’m not admitting this because I want compliments, or for us to have a little pity party – I’m admitting this because I wish that there were points in my life where I didn’t try to be all the things that I’m not. I’m admitting this because I’m all up for joining the self love club, for believing that I am simply enough, just as I am. Anyone else?!
So maybe I’m going to make a promise to myself – a promise to focus on the things that set me apart from everyone else, the things that make me, me. I know that I’m not a bad person, I’m actually pretty alright. I make people laugh (mostly at me rather than with me) I’m a good friend – a friend that will care for people more than they will ever realise. I love deeply, with my whole heart and more. I’m fun, bubbly, kind and humble. I try to make the best out of any situation. I try to appreciate the little things in life. I’m me – and I’ll never be anybody else.
I’m aware that my insecurities won’t disappear overnight but I’ve realised (and accepted) that with every flaw comes beauty too – so embrace it! Embrace who you are – I mean, if you’re trying your best, if you laugh until your belly hurts and you can look at the person in the mirror and see their worth, then hats off to you. You’ve cracked it! You are good enough.
So it’s time for me to get my shit together! Now who’s with me for joining the self love club?!
“If you have good thoughts they will shine out of your face like sunbeams and you will always look lovely”