Roxy Hammond

I love myself. Some may call it egotistical, narcissistic, self-centered … whatever. It seems to me, that if you don’t hate yourself in today’s society, you just aren’t accepted.

As a female, there are about a billion things I could worry about when I wake up in the morning. Will my hair look cute today? Is my skin clear? Will that pint of ice cream I ate last night show up on my thighs today? (And the answer is yes.)

Besides being materialistic and shallow, these things are just plain ridiculous. Since when did we start nit picking? Oh yeah, I remember. With the invention of plastic surgery, and the ability to make the human body PERFECT.

Apparently being an average, or even above-average, person is no longer good enough. In order to find happiness in the world, one must weigh less than 110 lb. (no matter what height), have chemically whitened teeth, have absolutely no zits, have a perfect bust and butt and appear to walk straight out of a Barbie wonderland. Sick.

You know what? I don’t want to. I have better things to worry about in the world than if all the boys think I’m pretty or if the girls hate me because I’m beautiful. To tell you the truth, the people that are going to judge me by my looks are the ones I’m going to kick in the head from my pedestal. I am funny and I am smart and I am witty. Sure, my hair is a mousy brown color and my thighs could be compared to skin-tone Jell-O, but there’s nothing wrong with me. My success in the world is not directly proportionate with how pretty I am, or how I do my hair in the morning. I would like to believe that people like me because of my personality, not because I have a spectacular sense for applying eye makeup.

It really disgusts me when I watch my younger sister put on makeup everyday. She’s stuck in the same rut as the rest of the insecure females in the world. Somehow, she’s under the impression that she has to amaze everyone she comes in contact with or she will be considered a failure. The problem is, my sister is naturally very pretty. But you wouldn’t know that. Because she puts on her concealer, her base, her bronzer, her setting powder, her blush, her eyeliner, her eye shadow, her mascara, and her lip gloss. So after awhile, you’re not looking at anything but what she wants you to see. She covers up her cute freckles, she plasters her pretty blue eyes. Why? Because she believes that’s what is going to make her beautiful.

I’m really sick of being expected to care. Yes, there is basic hygiene and making yourself look presentable, but I think our expectations have gone overboard. Everyone likes looking nice, but somehow our definition of nice has come to mean looking fake.

Next time you see a stick-thin model and yearn to look like her, smack yourself. The only thing they have to base themselves on is their looks, and those fade. Instead of worrying about giving that sultry, pouty look in just the right way, they should be reading a good book or working on their vocab. Nerdy, yes, but looks disappear long before the mind does. Think about it.

And stop looking at me like I’m the crazy one because I don’t whine about my big butt or my non-petite figure. I love my body, because it allows me to walk, run, swim, dance and express myself in many different manners. As clich