no makeup. no worries.

Images plaster the internet, the news of the world. Of what we as humans are meant to be, meant to look like, meant to fit in to. Utter bullshit. We are who we are; I will no longer be put under the pressure of feeling like I’m not good enough because the calculation of my BMI is too high. I am me. Its hard enough trying to fit into a society where you are judged so crucially on where you stand, what you believe in, your opinions and your rights. Let alone adding more pressure on to it by telling us what we should look like, how we should dress, and what we should do to “improve” ourselves.

People say that it’s who we are that counts, the kind of person we are on the inside, and I support that, but that must mean the world is contradictory considering the fact that fashion and image is rated so highly. I understand, feeling beautiful, feeling worthy, is one of the most vital things anyone could experience as a person, but it should be you on the inside, not this false image of what the world wants.

It’s what you want that matters. Sometimes it’s about you. It’s never selfish to simply care about yourself. We weren’t made to be selfless; we were made to appreciate who we are on the inside and out. When and why did it become such an issue for people to be themselves? Why is it frowned upon that someone may weigh more, or someone might be shorter or taller than what is expected. Since when has skinny been equal to beautiful? Why should anyone force themselves into believing that they are unworthy and unwanted, because of these images that surround us?

I’m disgusted in the fact that people find joy in when they can fit into that tiny skirt they’ve wanted for so long, or that t-shirt from the store everyone hates, but still wants to find pride in wearing the clothes. Weight, height, looks; they mean nothing, nothing to me, without who you are behind them. I can, I will, love and care for anyone. I’m setting myself free, I’m not going to be bound by this world, and I’m going to be comfortable in my own skin.

Who I am is who I am. I won’t change who I am on the inside nor will I change who I am on the outside. It truly upsets me when I see people on TV, people who feel like they have no other choice that they are so uncomfortable in their own skin, that they feel they need to change who they are. The beauty that resides in them is meddled with. The magic, the element of their soul that is portrayed in their face, in their skin, in the life that shines through them is changed.

It’s awful for me when I walk into a room and realise the first thing I’ve notice about the people when I look at them, is how they look. That is so very wrong of me, wrong of everyone. I want people to see me, what’s written in my heart, my life, my story. Not what is my face or my body.

The world can be such and ignorant place. Who are we to define what is and is not good and beautiful in this world? What I find real beauty in, is when someone can walk up to me, tell me I look great, even though, I’ve just woken up, my hair’s a mess, I’m sick, and I’ve got no make up on. That’s real. That’s how it should be, how one day, it will be. That I can be loved without all the pressures of what the media and large companies want. Imagine how much good we could do, the problems we could fix, if the money that’s invested in make up was invested into our problems instead.

Cavemen and women found partners in that life, when none of what we have today, existed. That was real... I’m going to get what’s real.