I’ve been self-conscious for as long as I can remember – certainly my entire adult life, and most of these feelings stemmed from a hatred of my body. This past year, though, I’ve started to become a lot more confident. There is some overlap between self-consciousness and anxiety, and I don’t expect those things to ever really go away. I don’t expect to get “better”, exactly, more “better at managing”. I’ll still worry if someone doesn’t message me back for 2 days. I’ll still be afraid that people are secretly frustrated with me, or even that my advocacy, something that I love to do, is causing more annoyance than good. But the difference, now, is that I can separate those “Anxiety thoughts” from “Ally thoughts”. I know that those thoughts aren’t coming from the rational part of my brain, and so I don’t really consider that to be self-consciousness. That’s just my little ol’ pal Anxiety.
I’ve learned to combat self-consciousness with self-awareness. I used to consider myself a self-conscious person, but I never wanted to think about it much. I would do anything to avoid exploring what was making me self-conscious because I was under the impression that thinking about these things would make them worse. Man, was I ever wrong. Learning to identify what was making me feel so self-conscious helped me make small changes that made a big impact.
I was self-conscious about most things. I was self-conscious about my legs, about my collarbones that didn’t show as much as some of my friends’. I was self-conscious about my broad shoulders and my not-skinny-not-not-skinny frame. I benefit from thin privilege, yes, but no one would look at me and describe me as thin. I didn’t have a flat stomach, but I also wasn’t muscular. I didn’t have cellulite (at the time) but I did have stretch marks. My mind was a ping-pong table of self-deprecating humour masking a deep-rooted inner dissatisfaction with myself. While I’m now happy with my body on most days, even though it continues to change as I move through life, that thought crushed me for years. I distinctly remember feeling bad about my body in one musical theatre class, 5 or 6 years ago now. Seeing I was unhappy, someone came up to me and said “well, yeah, you’re not skinny, but you can still do everything – you can audition for this role, you are strong enough to sing, you are creative.” This person was so right, but all I heard in that moment was “you’re not skinny”. It didn’t matter that I was learning how to support my breath as I was singing, or that I was improving my vibrato. I remember at one singing competition, one of the judges said “Come on, girls. You’ll get more support from your diaphragm if you suck in your stomach. I know you do it every day anyways, so just do it now.” This negative self-talk and self-image was absolutely inescapable.
That thought I wasn’t skinny echoed around in my head for the rest of the day, and honestly for years to come. I was stuck in the middle of thin and fat. And I hated it. I hated that my hips were wider than others’. I hated that I was short, because I thought that if I were tall I would look thinner. I was told I would “slim out” when I got older, and when growing up didn’t change my entire body shape to a smaller frame (shocker), I was extremely unhappy. I thought that if I could see my collarbones, I would be happier. If my legs were smaller, people would like me. I thought that if I got to that size 2 I would finally be confident. I started measuring my self-worth on the number inside my jeans, and was terrified to have to buy the next size up. But, I’ve since learned that happiness isn’t a size. And that I will never hate myself into loving myself. Looking back, I just want to hug my younger self. None of these things are bad – in fact, I’ve learned to embrace them for what they help me do. I’m short, but I can comfortably stand up in the seats of planes. My hips are wide, but they are pretty great shelves when I have to carry textbooks, groceries, children, allll the puppies… pretty much anything.
Especially when I found the body positive community, I didn’t know where I fit in. I found these incredible, strong, absolutely beautiful fat women owning their bodies. I saw radiant thin women find empowerment, overcome their fears of being sexualized and objectified, and learn to love themselves. But I wasn’t on either end of this spectrum. I was somewhere in the middle, and I felt stuck. I saw thin people on TV, in magazines, and on social media. I saw fat people on these platforms (while fewer in number than thin bodies in the media, I did still see them). What I craved, though, was someone with my body type. Someone who wasn’t skinny, but wasn’t not skinny. Someone who was stuck in the middle, like me.
What has made me more self-conscious than anything else, though, is my acne. It even makes me a little uncomfortable to write this, but I know that the more I type, the more my pen moves across the pages of my little white notebook… the less power all of these things have over me. I’ve had pretty bad acne for the past 8 years of my life. And I’m super over it. I’ve tried everything. Every cream, cleanser, and moisturizer in the book (did you know your skin can be too moisturized?!). I’ve tried exfoliating, lemon juice, aloe, baking soda, and even toothpaste (don’t ask). I’ve spent hours waiting for dermatologist appointments, and reading about *the ultimate skincare routine*. I tried some medicated creams (which bleached my pillows and clothes… I can’t believe I put that on my face), but when I started to consider oral medication, which had helped many of my friends, I was already taking medication for my mental illness, and a healthy mind is much more important to me than clear skin. I knew how aggressive oral acne medication could be on your body, and as someone who was trying to heal her body and mind, I thought this would be too big of a risk for me to take at that point. Anyone who has tried to find the right medication/dosage for their mental health challenges will know that it can be a long process. It can be frustrating, and when you and your doctor finally find what works for you, you don’t want to change it. My medication caused me to feel hungrier at some points, and lose my hunger cues at others. It caused me to be dazed, disoriented, and nauseous until I found what works for me. I finally did (G bless my bae SSRIs), and I’m finally happy, and I just don’t want to risk adding an unnecessary medication to the mix that might change that.
On top of having acne, my skin is super sensitive. I’ll get hives and rashes all the time from different scents. Oftentimes, I’ll try a new cleanser that friends have told me about, and I’ll have a reaction to it. It sucks. And I felt like I could never talk about my struggles with acne, because I’d get unsolicited advice, tips on “eating clean” and all that fun stuff. I can’t change the skin that I was born with. I can’t change the fact that I am a woman, and that means that the state of my skin and my body continuously fluctuate with my hormone levels. For those fortunate souls who have naturally clear skin… power to ya! But I found it hard to voice my struggles because if I was speaking with one of you, I would start feeling really bad about myself, and start thinking “what’s wrong with me?”. When my friends’ acne went away as they got older, mine got better, but it didn’t disappear. And that made me even more self-conscious.
When I was in high school, we wore uniforms, the school had a no makeup, no nail polish, no coloured hair policy (super minimal makeup and “natural hair colours” you could get away with), so I never reeeally turned to makeup to hide my insecurities. I mean, I did, but not as much as I would in university. In high school, I would throw on some foundation and call it a day, and on days where I would run out of makeup, I would get extremely anxious. I was convinced that people were judging me for how I looked. My school was small. These girls (it was an all-girls school) knew me. They saw me at my best and at my worst. In a school where it was commonplace to change in the middle of the hallway between classes – we were all girls, anyways – feeling so uncomfortable in my own skin was strange, since I was so comfortable walking around without shoes (much to the dismay of our principal) and changing into my gym uniform in the hallway. Yet, I still thought that my classmates would judge me.
I remember one of my friends, when I said I was self-conscious that I had run out of makeup, said “you don’t even look that different without makeup”. This terrified me, because although she meant that I was beautiful with or without my security blanket, my insecurities heard it as “you still look awful with makeup on”. In university, when I actually had to think about the clothes I would wear, and there was a whole new pool of people to meet on my own (hello first day of school without my twin EVER). Because I so badly wanted to be liked, and I wanted to fit in, I started wearing more and more makeup. And with that, I started becoming more and more insecure, to the point where if a friend texted me to come to their room at 2am, I would speedily put on some makeup before going down the hall, convinced that they would be horrified by the state of my bare face. At this point, I was barely sleeping, not eating properly, and crying myself to sleep on most nights because I was so homesick. Yet, putting on makeup became my priority.
This year, I’ve gradually started wearing less and less makeup, and I’m feeling really good about it. Yes, I’m still super self-conscious about my skin on some days, and will I be heading to my corporate internship bare-faced any time soon? Probably not. But for me, going out on evenings and weekends without makeup is a huge win. My skin is starting to heal now that I am letting it breathe, and as an added perk, my dermatillomania habits seem to be less prominent when I’m bare-faced. (Side note, dermatillomania will make my skin worse/scar, which will make me more self-conscious, which will make me want to wear more make-up, which will make me pick even more… or makeup will cause me to break out, which will cause me to pick at imperfections on my face, which will cause scars, which I’ll pick at…it’s a great time).
When I found the body positive community, I started to really consider why I was wearing makeup. Was I doing it to hide insecurities? Or because it was a form of self-care and self-expression? For me, currently, it’s a little bit of both. A year ago, it would absolutely have been to cover up insecurities. I didn’t think about how I could express myself with makeup, since I never really experimented with it as a teenager, since I couldn’t wear much to school. Now, I try to really think about why I want to put makeup on. If it’s to hide myself from the world, and I’m having a pretty good day, I’ll try to challenge myself and go without. Because what I’ve noticed over the past few months is that people notice you a lot less than you think they do. They’re not looking at you searching for all of your flaws. And if someone is going to be shitty to me because of a few scars and blemishes on my face, they don’t deserve me in their life. The more days I go makeup-free, the more empowered I feel – with or without it. Also, it’s just super convenient to be able to go hiking, kayaking, swimming, to the gym or a yoga class without a full face of makeup. I’m not there to look good – I’m there to feel good. That’s what matters. And I’ve learned that when I feel good, and my heart is happy, I am radiant. I now feel most beautiful when I am my happiest. When my smile is real. And I think that’s pretty cool.
To be honest, feeling comfortable in my skin, without makeup, is something I still struggle with, and something that I’m still working on every single day. If I am around you without makeup, know that it’s because I trust you. I literally didn’t even used to come downstairs for breakfast without makeup because I was so self-conscious that I didn’t even want my family to see my bare face. It’s a huge challenge for me to authentically be there with you, carefree. I love the way my skin feels without makeup, but if I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the rear-view mirror of my car, the windows of the subway, or a mirror in a department store, it can still be really hard for me. If you are struggling to feel comfortable in your skin, remember that nobody is perfect. Your complexion does not define you and you are beautiful, clear skin or not. Don’t let any insecurities limit you, and know that you can slowly build more confidence through greater self-awareness, challenging yourself slowly but surely, and surrounding yourself with supportive people.
Keep on trekking warrior,
Ally
