Sunday 25 January 2015

What we think of others.

You'd know what I like? I'd like a lip ring. I won't get a lip ring, because the reasons to not get a lip ring are far greater than the reasons to get a lip ring. One of these reasons is the way that people will see me.
And yet, I have a tattoo on my breast. It is sexually suggestive, even though that's not why I got it. It sends a certain image, which certain people can see as being a negative image. And yet, I have a tattoo. On my chest.
This tattoo means a great deal to me. Which is why I got it even though it changes the way people see me.

See, the thing is, society sees a person the way that they present themselves. And while I really don't have a problem with that, many people do. Why? Why is it wrong to not be attracted to morbidly obese people or skeletically skinny people, which are both embodiments of bad health? Why is it wrong to find piercings or tattoos agressive? Skimpy clothes provocative? Why is it wrong to act upon this?
I'm not saying to lynch everyone that doesn't physically appeal to you, but is it wrong that I, at almost 5'10, appreciate boys who are at least two inches taller than me and will therefore be much more easily attracted by a boy who is 6'? And while I wouldn't appreciate a boy straight out asking me how much I weigh (Especially that I seem to have rather generous curves and dense bones, so weigh much more than I should), I don't mind them judging me on what they like or don't. Maybe they don't like my hair, or the fact that I have hips, or no butt. Maybe they can ask me my body fat percentage, and I'll say 23%, but I'm working towards 21%, and if they know what that means, they can decide whether or not that's something they appreciate.
I don't have a problem with that. As long as I don't get publicly ridiculed for it or for something else I can't change, or am unwilling to change (heads up, I like my roots: I'm not dying them. I don't like my nose, but I'm not willing to get surgery. I also don't like my thighs, but I'm working towards it. See where I'm going with this?), I don't judge you on your preferences.

We must stop judging others on their private, personal thoughts. It's rude, and really quite none of our business.

Thursday 22 January 2015

"Do your best. Chances are, your best is average. That's ok. Do your best, and then sit back and have a beer."


My whole life, I was told I was extraordinary. To my parents, I was the kid who hadn't screwed up. To my boss, I was part of a two-women dream team. To my colleagues, I was the efficient one. To my peers, I was intelligent. To my teachers, I was the straight-A student with multiple extra-curricular activities. I was the star student with an amazing fight reputation in Tae Kwon Do. My singing teacher assured me I could go far if I wanted to. My mother kept telling me that coming from a family with money and a heritage meant I was more priviledged than anyone else. My father kept telling me that I knew how to succeed and rise ahead of everyone else. I strolled through life, convinced I was going to make it. I don't think anyone was more surprised then I was when I turned out to be really quite average.

I guess I've always known I was borderline. I've always known that I was smart enough to write well, but not to be a math gizmo. Pretty enough to impress people, but not to model. Nice enough that people warmed to me after a while, but not charismatic. I suppose I'm lucky that I'm well rounded, but I knew that I wasn't the top in anything. I would never excel. And yet, through my childhood years, I always had a strong support system. My parents, although not exactly there emotionally, were certainly there to give me the tools I couldn't acquire myself yet: finances, life experience, drive. I had teachers who believed in me, coaches who told me I had potential. And whatever I didn't excel at, I would avoid. Dancing? Pass. Drawing? God forbid they asked me to draw anything in school, I would get a friend to do it for me. Of course, intrisect motivation pushes one to do what they are best at, but I suppose that always having everyone around me telling me how good I was, was enough. And then I found myself without all those little bars and strings and ropes and people holding me up. And that's when I found out just how fragile my own two legs were. The first six months in particular were hard. I wasn't sure who I was, I wasn't sure which part of myself I wanted to focus on. I'm afraid I made rather poor decisions and that my priorities weren't straight. Instead of focusing on success, I focused on appearance. With it came vanity and a sense of self-entitlement. And yet, I figure I needed to go through that. It's part of my experience, as a child, as a person. I just wish I'd done it a little sooner, when I had people to help me back up when I crumbled.

Picking myself up was hard. Going from indestructible to brittle was painful, especially when I did end up breaking in multiple small pieces. But I now understand that if I work very very hard, and give my very best, and always reach for the stars, I am sure to stay average. Because average people are what make the majority of the world. And probability says that I'm in that majority.  

Sunday 18 January 2015

Dating

In a couple months, I went from turning down every single guy that's asked me on a date, to grudgingly accepting after five or six attempts, to accepting a quick initial invitation, to actually asking a guy out (through text, but nevertheless). A full 180. Un volte-face.
So tonight, I'm going out to grab a drink with a boy who've I've exchanged a full 5 sentences with, whom I'll admit I can't remember his face, who I'll probably exchange school and family questions with while pondering a million other things and half-listening to what he's telling me. I mean, sure, I'm bad at dating and I could probably pay more attention to my dates, but let me just say something: I'm tired of dating.
I haven't even started, and this whole let's-cautiously-tell-each-other-safe-things-and-desperately-try-to-guess-what-could-turn-you-off-and-not-mention-it-ever game is exhausting. The whole, put makeup on, and a special outfit, and shoes that are cute yet don't make you taller than him, and ponder your look carefully so as to look like you made an effort but not look desperate thing gets on my nerves. This whole, does he want me to order a salad and will he judge me if I grab a burger? thing is ridiculous. This whole, let's do five dates before seeing if we're compatible enough to sleep together is anxiety-enducing. Laughable, absurd, ludicrous.

You know what I'd like? I'd like someone to throw caution to the wind. Say "fuck it", pick me up at 11 at night, no makeup and sneakers and hair in a ponytail or hastily brushed, and take me to a 24/7 diner and throw fries at me from across the table. Or take me on a drive to see lights from above the city. Or take me on a hike and go running and see each other with messy hair and twigs in our clothes, and sweaty brows, and real, hearty laughs. I want someone to pretend they've known me forever, and then they'll get to know me so much faster.

I don't want to "go grab a coffee". I don't want to "meet up for a drink". I don't want to go through the whole awkward phase where I'm not sure if what you're telling me is true, or if you have an ulterior motive. I'm tired of not being paranoid enough, because I really don't give a shit, and wore something that isn't your favorite colour, or didn't pop a mint in after dinner. I want to grab pizza if I want to, I don't want to have to worry if you'll pay, and I certainly don't want to go back home having not laughed or gotten to know you. I don't want to walk on eggshells until it's been four months and we're finally confortable... and then we realize neither of us want what we initially thought the other one wanted.

And I might be scared of commitment. I might be scared of looking weak if I get attached. I might even look like that one aunt that always shows up to the family party with a different boyfriend and whom everyone knows will never actually get settled down.  But seriously? Screw conventions. Just grab my hand, show me something I've never done, and your odds of finding a girl that will follow you on the next adventure just increased tenfolds.