wabi - sabi

sette

"𝙸𝚜 𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚕𝚢 𝚗𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚊𝚛𝚢?..."

Venturing through adolescence with my naïveté, I had not once paid attention to how I looked or to how people physically saw me.

A thing or two I have learned from society is that one must put effort into how one looks. Living in a tropical country, I find it baffling to see various television commercials advertising whitening products for Filipinas, who are mostly natural morenas. Make-up and skincare products have been the apple of their eyes, and certainly of mine. An upgrade, let us say. To make ourselves even more beautiful, like a masterpiece to be gazed upon by many and by ourselves.

There was a time in my life when I avoided mirrors. Adolescence approached my life swiftly, causing me to become a work in progress. Many have praised me when I was younger for being physically beautiful, as they say. My mother has often humbled me so that I may never become assumptive. Yet adolescence's influence made me rather uglier, as society may see it.

Having had my fair share of toxic friendships, the last one I've had could be labeled the most toxic of them all. Embodying the wolf in sheep's clothing in human form, she had successfully lured me into her trap, as I had believed her to be more sincere than others. She pointed out the acne on my face, similar to what my grandmother (who is comparable to a wicked witch) and my family would usually do. Desperately, I would then rush to the nearest beauty store, buying products that resulted in a rather worse reaction on my skin.

Supposedly, I was more on the plump side; that sweet friend of mine had made it clear. Staring at my body, I'd feel disgusted at such a view. I couldn't stand seeing my chubby cheeks, the double chin I had, my flabby arms, and the fat on my belly, thighs, and calves. I noticed how uneven my complexion was, how the size of my feet was much bigger than a normal girl, and the body hair that grew on my legs, arms, and underarms. Therefore, I decided to exercise, eat less, and buy whitening products, despite my skepticism that they would work.

I had been so aware of my own body and had never felt so disgusted in my whole life. Mistaking the gaslighting (which I've known by now) as a mere concern, I tried my best to become acceptable in their eyes—probably in her eyes. Everything she pointed out in me developed as an insecurity. Consequently, I could not look at mirrors anymore.

I avoided mirrors for a long time, embarrassed by how hideous I looked.

Walking along the hallways, I cast my gaze downward, avoiding eye contact as my shoulders hunched forward. In my peripheral vision, I had been aware of the dazzling beauty of others, making me want to hide myself from the light they exuded. I did not want to witness it or be a part of it.

The low self-esteem and the immense self-hatred stirred within me caused me to grow aloof and anxious about how others would see me. Avoiding the spotlight with all my might, I remained a loner, and my distrust for others had grown each minute. I had completely felt uncomfortable in my skin, wanting to disappear each day and be one with the shadows.

I closed my eyes and sighed. I was truly getting tired of how society expected me to be. It had often been exhausting to take a picture of myself and edit it to remove the impurities visible to the naked eye. It had been exhausting to be so insecure wearing fitted clothes that emphasized the fats of my body, nor the fact that I don't have the tiniest waist and flattest stomach like how I would see in K-pop idols. It had been exhausting to constantly look down whenever I walked, knowing I did not possess the beauty everyone else had. It had been exhausting to downgrade myself completely because I did not fit the standards of what they considered 'beautiful'.

I certainly could not be the most ravishing woman ever, yet I was also getting fatigued from all the pain, the stress, and the despair of becoming one.

As wounded as I was with my jaded eyesight, for how many times I have cried myself to sleep with hatred unleashed from such extremes of my emotions, perhaps I could change my mind. Knowing that there was still hope present, I tried my best to invest in what they called 'beauty'. I paid attention to my skincare routine, analyzed my skin type, and bought products accordingly. I put make-up on my face as if my mission was to make the most exquisite artwork, experimenting like it were a painting. Additionally, I paid attention to how I dressed, which made me appreciate fashion even more. I did not have a workout routine, as exercise and sports were never my greatest feats, yet I gradually became accustomed to doing yoga and going for walks.

From those little efforts, I felt better and eventually built my self-esteem over time. Despite that, they were merely a secondary source of strength, as the foundation of my newly found confidence was my positive self-talk. For years, I struggled with negative self-talk with little to no awareness that it was the drive from my anguish. The moment I stopped, the feelings of insecurity did not plague my former naïve soul.

For the first time in years, I have come to love myself merely because the self-hatred had become tiresome and the challenge of being comfortable with my imperfections as they are had been a huge step towards acceptance. For the first time in years, I had finally looked at the mirror while not saying anything bad to the reflection it showed—perhaps a little too much that I'd be contented for hours looking at my ethereal reflection.

The self I once despised looking at—the self I once thought was hideous enough for society to see—has been the reason I have managed to build my boundaries so high and never settle for less than I deserve.

It had surprised me, as well, that by the time I had been so comfortable with my beauty, everyone continuously complimented me for it. I realized, then, that the foundation for truly appreciating one's beauty is found in the inner self. What is nourished inside the self causes the flourishing of the outside.

Now I walk with my head held high, my brave eyes boring into the masses as if the world had finally become my runway. I realized that beauty, as superficial as it may be, is only one part of oneself. There are so many aspects that can make someone beautiful—be it their confidence, their assertiveness, their grace, their passion, or their innocence. Every single woman in the world has their own standards of beauty, especially when they are at their peak potential.

Suddenly, the world is our runway, and we shine brighter than the stars.

love lots,

aru.