A day with Kelley includes a whole lot of "You look so hot!" and "You're such a sexpot!" and other such things I had never heard before this past year. KELLEY. YOU ARE REALLY GOOD FOR MY SELF-ESTEEM.
If I ever mention this whole self-image thing to my mom she protests that my dad used to tell me I was pretty all the time. But the thing is, he's my dad
and he never said it seriously, it just seemed like a thing he said to fill silence so I never took it seriously or listened to the meaning of those words.
And today at the end of a long conversation with my mom I finally said, "Do you like my hair?" She shrugged and went, "It's not as bad as I thought it would be. Daddy doesn't hate it." Fishing for a compliment I said, "I think it makes my eyes look bluer." She wrinkled her nose and said, "Maybe, but you'd have to get your hair out of your eyes first. Your bangs are too long."
She wasn't being rude or anything, she just doesn't really say unnecessarily complimentary things. My mom has never complimented my looks before. I know because they have been complimented so rarely that I remember every time. Except with Kelley because she does it repeatedly on a daily basis. KELLEY YOU ARE FIXING MY SOUL WITH YOUR OVERLY KIND WORDS.
One time I overheard that guy I dated when I was seventeen telling a mutual friend "she's so
pretty!" and when he saw me standing there he blushed and tried to shut the door on me. And one time my Frenchman called me "guapa," which was incredibly adorable of him. This is why I love the dragueurs so much and the ooh là làs. Also Mikele told me I had sexy eyes. There. That's every compliment that has ever been paid to me by a male human.
However. The thing is. I don't know where the line is between confident and vain.
There are pictures of me that I really like. Usually I try to credit things like the lipstick I'm wearing or the fake lashes or whatever. My brain keeps rejecting those pictures I posted the other day because I don't believe that I wasn't sucking my gut in, but I really wasn't. I think I wasn't. I remember forcing myself not to. But that can't really be what I look like when I'm relaxed. So I said it was because I was wearing a great bra. I really don't see that body when I look in the mirror. If I did, this would be a lot easier for me.
I recently lost fifty pounds, as most of you know. That's about, what, 22 kilos or something? It's a LOT of weight. A huge difference. I've always considered myself vastly overweight. It was always my defining feature in my mind. But I think I've always been wrong. I think I've blown it way out of proportion due to my insecurities.
Today I really liked my outfit and I kept running to look at myself in the mirror before I left to work. And at work I went to the bathroom to check it out. I was hoping my mom would say something about it when she saw it, but she didn't. Well, she asked why I was wearing knee socks if I had gone through the trouble of using an epilator. I told her I just liked them, but actually it's one part Patrice Maktav tribute and five parts to hide the tattoo she doesn't know I have. It's just not in her nature to bestow unnecessary compliments. She's not cold or mean by any stretch of the imagination, just... practical, I guess. She hasn't ever felt good about her own looks, so she doesn't point out others' features either.
I like my haircut, I like my outfit, I like being a little bit overly friendly with customers and watching the tip jar overflow.
My new hair color makes me feel really confident. It's vixen hair and I'm a little bit obsessed with it.
Look at my hairrrrr
and my sonic screwdrivers
I was going to take a picture of my outfit today just because I liked it and it looked hot but I couldn't think of any justification for posting it. I felt like it would look vain just to post a picture of myself for no reason. The sonic screwdrivers feature in that picture up there just because I wanted a reason to post a better picture of my new hair color, so I did it under the guise of showing off my sonic screwdrivers.
This paranoia of vanity is only crippling me.
I want to get this obsession with self image sorted in the next twenty-seven days.
TWENTY-SEVEN DAYS!!! That is such a short time!
In unrelated news, today I decided to get a new phone number when I get back to France. There are two people from whom I no longer wish to receive texts, both of them... unbalanced... fans. I'll text my new number to the people who won't cause me drama.
BYE OLD PHONE NUMBER! BYE OLD LIFE!
I am gonna be Ehreen and I am gonna be such a badass. With vixen hair, an epilator, and two sonic screwdrivers.