"I just wanna be myself and I want you to love me for who I am..."
I have to admit, the first time (or first few times) I listened to the song "Hair", I didn't really care for it. It wasn't so much the sound of the song that turned me off as what I thought was the message behind it--that looks were all that mattered, and you should change them in order to be accepted. It seemed so much the opposite of everything I had tried for years to un-learn for myself and what I was trying to teach my daughter. But I was a brand new Lady Gaga fan at that time, and I hadn't yet learned about the difficult experiences she'd had with being bullied in school. I hadn't yet realized how easy it would be to relate to her and that song.
By the time I was in sixth grade (about 12 years old, roughly the same age as Mini Monster is now), I was already painfully aware of the fact that I was not what anyone--except perhaps my own family--would consider beautiful. If anyone ever complimented my appearance, it was always one feature at a time, never as a whole. I'd hear how beautiful my eyes were, or that I had shapely legs (ew...that one actually sounds kinda creepy when directed at a 12-year-old), or that my hair was so nice and thick and long (almost down to my butt at one point), or worst of all, the most backhanded compliment of all time: "You have such a pretty face!" Ugh. That one never fails to make me cringe. If you're thinking of using that line on someone, please don't. You might as well tell them they look like shit everywhere else, because speaking from personal experience, that's what they're going to hear.
Anyway...I knew perfectly well that I was the fat girl; I'd literally been put on diet after diet from the age of six, with limited and temporary results. I knew I didn't have the "right" clothes, because they didn't come in my size, and we didn't have a whole lot of money to spend on the few brand names that did. So as soon as I was allowed, I tried to improve myself with makeup, nail polish, and way too many hair products instead. (It was the late '80s and early '90s...think sky-high bangs.) Getting ready to go out took forever because I had to make my hair look exactly right. I owned makeup in every color imaginable, enough that I had to store it in a case roughly the size of my grandfather's fishing tackle box. I carried that thing with me like luggage whenever I spent the night at a friend's house. I never went anywhere without my nail supplies, including school, and if I had nothing else to do in study hall or when History class was especially boring, I'd pull them out and give myself a manicure. My friends always knew who to talk to if they broke a nail or chipped their polish. Starting in high school, I experimented with changing my hair color. (I scared my dad by not warning him when I dyed it dark brown; he said he opened the door and saw me, and he thought he was seeing my mom...who had passed away a year or so earlier.)
The problem is, it never made anyone love me more--myself included. I didn't use any of it because I liked the way I looked or felt when I was all done up, but rather because I hated the way I looked without it. So I gave up on it almost entirely. The last time I used makeup other than concealer or the lightest possible color of lip gloss was probably when I married Non-Monster in 1997, so I'd at least look relatively decent in our wedding photos. Eventually, I convinced myself that I had done so because of some conscious decision not to support the belief that women need to look a certain way, even if they must use artificial means to achieve that look. It allowed me to pretend that I was somehow more enlightened than other women.
Bullshit. I quit using makeup because I was tired of spending money on polishing a turd, and it's taken me more than 20 years to understand that that's why I did it. At some point in my life, I'd let other people's opinions of me and my appearance influence the way I saw myself.
Let's jump ahead now, to nine days ago: July 9, 2019. That was the day Lady Gaga's Haus Laboratories posted this promotional video for her new beauty line:
"They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder. But at Haus Laboratories, we say beauty is how you see yourself..."
I couldn't stop thinking about that line. Obviously, I still haven't stopped thinking about it, since I'm writing about it right now.
How do I see myself?
I wish I could say that I no longer see the little fat girl, trying desperately to be accepted, but she's still here inside me. Also still here is the turd that would be a waste of good polish. But there's someone else here, too; I'm not entirely sure who she is, but I want to get to know her better. I feel like she might even decide to stick around.
She's strong, and for once, it's not only in the sense that she can conceal her uglier, messier emotions for the sake of others' comfort. She is worth spending time on and spending time with. She is worth a little polish. She's better for having another strong woman's voice speaking and singing strength, self-acceptance, and love in her ears, touching her heart, and echoing in her mind.
"I just wanna be myself and I want you to love me for who I am..."
Love and Paws Up always, Little Monsters.
I have to admit, the first time (or first few times) I listened to the song "Hair", I didn't really care for it. It wasn't so much the sound of the song that turned me off as what I thought was the message behind it--that looks were all that mattered, and you should change them in order to be accepted. It seemed so much the opposite of everything I had tried for years to un-learn for myself and what I was trying to teach my daughter. But I was a brand new Lady Gaga fan at that time, and I hadn't yet learned about the difficult experiences she'd had with being bullied in school. I hadn't yet realized how easy it would be to relate to her and that song.
By the time I was in sixth grade (about 12 years old, roughly the same age as Mini Monster is now), I was already painfully aware of the fact that I was not what anyone--except perhaps my own family--would consider beautiful. If anyone ever complimented my appearance, it was always one feature at a time, never as a whole. I'd hear how beautiful my eyes were, or that I had shapely legs (ew...that one actually sounds kinda creepy when directed at a 12-year-old), or that my hair was so nice and thick and long (almost down to my butt at one point), or worst of all, the most backhanded compliment of all time: "You have such a pretty face!" Ugh. That one never fails to make me cringe. If you're thinking of using that line on someone, please don't. You might as well tell them they look like shit everywhere else, because speaking from personal experience, that's what they're going to hear.
Anyway...I knew perfectly well that I was the fat girl; I'd literally been put on diet after diet from the age of six, with limited and temporary results. I knew I didn't have the "right" clothes, because they didn't come in my size, and we didn't have a whole lot of money to spend on the few brand names that did. So as soon as I was allowed, I tried to improve myself with makeup, nail polish, and way too many hair products instead. (It was the late '80s and early '90s...think sky-high bangs.) Getting ready to go out took forever because I had to make my hair look exactly right. I owned makeup in every color imaginable, enough that I had to store it in a case roughly the size of my grandfather's fishing tackle box. I carried that thing with me like luggage whenever I spent the night at a friend's house. I never went anywhere without my nail supplies, including school, and if I had nothing else to do in study hall or when History class was especially boring, I'd pull them out and give myself a manicure. My friends always knew who to talk to if they broke a nail or chipped their polish. Starting in high school, I experimented with changing my hair color. (I scared my dad by not warning him when I dyed it dark brown; he said he opened the door and saw me, and he thought he was seeing my mom...who had passed away a year or so earlier.)
The problem is, it never made anyone love me more--myself included. I didn't use any of it because I liked the way I looked or felt when I was all done up, but rather because I hated the way I looked without it. So I gave up on it almost entirely. The last time I used makeup other than concealer or the lightest possible color of lip gloss was probably when I married Non-Monster in 1997, so I'd at least look relatively decent in our wedding photos. Eventually, I convinced myself that I had done so because of some conscious decision not to support the belief that women need to look a certain way, even if they must use artificial means to achieve that look. It allowed me to pretend that I was somehow more enlightened than other women.
Bullshit. I quit using makeup because I was tired of spending money on polishing a turd, and it's taken me more than 20 years to understand that that's why I did it. At some point in my life, I'd let other people's opinions of me and my appearance influence the way I saw myself.
Let's jump ahead now, to nine days ago: July 9, 2019. That was the day Lady Gaga's Haus Laboratories posted this promotional video for her new beauty line:
"They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder. But at Haus Laboratories, we say beauty is how you see yourself..."
I couldn't stop thinking about that line. Obviously, I still haven't stopped thinking about it, since I'm writing about it right now.
How do I see myself?
I wish I could say that I no longer see the little fat girl, trying desperately to be accepted, but she's still here inside me. Also still here is the turd that would be a waste of good polish. But there's someone else here, too; I'm not entirely sure who she is, but I want to get to know her better. I feel like she might even decide to stick around.
She's strong, and for once, it's not only in the sense that she can conceal her uglier, messier emotions for the sake of others' comfort. She is worth spending time on and spending time with. She is worth a little polish. She's better for having another strong woman's voice speaking and singing strength, self-acceptance, and love in her ears, touching her heart, and echoing in her mind.
"I just wanna be myself and I want you to love me for who I am..."
Love and Paws Up always, Little Monsters.
What a wonderful writer you are. This made me cry and I know Stefani would cry too. You are beautiful inside and out. Her makeup isn't just to make you look pretty on the outside but it is to make you feel pretty on the inside. And that's ALL that matters! I am proud to call you a fellow Little Monster. Paws Up <3
ReplyDeleteThank you so much. I've been writing for years, but I rarely share it. I'll just say that I feel the line from ASIB where Ally talks about not singing her own songs 100%. This blog is a big step out of my comfort zone. It means more to me than I can say that you're even reading it, let alone being moved by it. Paws up right back <3
DeleteWell the deleted comment above was mine because I didn't have my profile set up yet. And I just got 6 views on my profile so I'd say someone is reading your blog. Keep up the good work. I will definitely follow this one for sure! :D
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