Since I’m like super young, I’ve always been fat, not like EXTREMELY fat, but overweighted anyway. My parents never really reproached it to me but I had the whole ‘Stop eating or you’ll get fatter’ speech on a regular basis. It wasn’t mean, but just in the whole ‘thin society’ kind of way of thinking. My father at some point took me running three times a week, plus swimming pool once a week and twice a week I had gym with him. I got thinner at some point but I hate sports and it was making me miserable, so I stopped and gained weight once again.

This is me during middle school :

I never found myself pretty. Now, still, I don’t think my younger self was pretty. And because of this I never really cared about clothes or makeup and I worked hard on my smarts, I read a lot and I got really arrogant about my knowledge because I felt like I couldn’t rely on my looks.
My older brother is one hot motherfucker, sportive and absolutely handsome and there was no way in Hell I could remotely be as attractive as him.

High school came and it got only worse, I guess. I had a lot of troubles to get into this whole mentality of getting laid despite seeing all my friends doing so and shit. The fact no one was finding me attractive didn’t help.

High school me :

In my last year of high school, I decided to get my hair cut. And things started to get a bit better. I was a bit more at peace with my image, even though I was still fat (which for me at this point wasn’t fitting the idea of being happy with your body)

Pictures of my face of this period are rare.

I entered university.

I got friends, the healthy kind for once. Girls who were not the society ideas of beautiful but who were absolutely gorgeous. After years of not wearing a single dress, I started to buy only dresses or skirts. My taste in clothes started to fit my idea of good clothes instead of what I thought I should wear considering how I looked (large pants and large shirts). I kept my hair short because this is how I look the best, still now.

And I started experimenting a bit. I had a lot of fun. I got pierced and tattooed. I wore hats and glasses. Cap and beanies. Because it became okay to feel pretty despite my weight. I met the right persons who never judged.

I quitted University because I didn’t like what I was studying. I decided to start travelling and my opinion of myself was pretty good. Taking selfies was fun now. I start to find myself cute around this period, still starting now. I look happier and more relax. Less strained to take a picture of myself. In control. The fact I got laid with a stranger also helped, weirdly, to give me a confidence boost.

Me during my travels :

Then I arrived in Portugal and I saw this girl who had the most perfect eyeliner ever and she was pretty as fuck and I was like, I need to start putting makeup on. I felt like I could treat myself with makeup. It was okay, I was already pretty, it wasn’t cheating.

Literally my first selfie with makeup. Just lipstick, eyeliner, crayon and mascara. And it made the trick. I found myself even prettier. It just achieved to give me the confidence I needed. I started to get hit on, which happened nearly never before. And maybe the makeup thing helped, but I am sure the confidence I can now harbor is what actually worked.
And I know I’m supposed to say that the others’ looks don’t matter, and to a certain point that is true, but as someone who had never been looked or seen as pretty, the others’ eyes felt goddamn like a victory to me.

And started this point, I started to have a lot of fun with makeup.

Black lipstick me :

First time liquid foundation me (which actually is a mini-miracle in my opinion) :

I have now something like 10 different lipstick colors because I just like lipsticks a lot. I change the style of my eyeliner regularly, sometimes one wing, sometimes two, sometimes I add dots. I don’t care, I do whatever I want because I’m pretty.
My friends make gently fun of me because I take a bunch of selfies now. They don’t really understand the happiness I got from hating how I look to actually enjoy my own face.

I was the girl whose mother nearly had to drag to go shopping to the girl who can spend hours in a store hesitating between black tights or red tights. I get in arguments with my mother about my clothes being ‘too revealing’. I’m not saying there isn’t a single thing I wouldn’t change, some days, I really want to lose weight again and it’s normal to want that. It doesn’t mean I don’t think I’m pretty, it just means I am another kind of pretty.

My point is. Confidence doesn’t pop up from nowhere. It takes time. It takes a ‘My hair looks great today’ from time to time. It takes staring in the mirror without flinching. It can also take to accept people’s eyes on you. I know it helped me to be seen as pretty by others.
If you’re a young one and you don’t think you’re beautiful, let me tell you, it’s okay. I don’t think I was beautiful either. That doesn’t mean you are not, it just means it’ll take you longer to find yourself pretty. Take your time. Do what it takes. But I assure you it will come.
If you’re not a young one, then, sometimes all you need is to take a step away from yourself and try another angle. ‘Maybe I should change my haircut. Maybe I should put some crayon.’ Makeup is not cheating. Makeup is an accessory just like scarves or piercings. You don’t have to wear them if you don’t like them but you can do so if you like.

I first found confidence on who I was before how I looked. But the steps are the same. And everyone can take the leap. It takes a little effort, a little bravery and then you’re in.
I know it’s not like the solution for everyone. I found some pride into getting hit on because it was what I was craving for, also I really like getting laid with strangers before never meeting them again. But just as much this was my way, you’ll find yours too.

Pretty kisses to all of you out there. If you cannot find the strength to see you as beautiful, I’ll do it for you.

October 8th 2015

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