Where in the world do I feel the most vulnerable?

Standing in front of the mirror at the gym, doing my makeup and hair in front of other women.

Okay, there are other places that make me feel equally if not slightly more vulnerable (the audition room for example), but this one is pretty high up there.

This ritual used to make me feel incredibly inadequate. My physical appearance felt like such a superficial expression of who I was. I didn’t want to spend time on it. I didn’t want to appear as though I spent time on it. Beauty was too far above me. I didn’t want to put in the effort and know that I’d still be less than ideal. In fact, the harder I tried, the further I seemed to float away from perfection.

Beauty felt unattainable. I decided not trying was better than trying and failing. For most of my life I’d stick my wet newly showered hair up in a messy bun and head out the door. That was good enough.

Time for some honesty. This is a hard one to share.

For the last 6 years I’ve had a problem with picking. I’d pick at my face – looking for imperfections to squeeze away – whenever I was feeling overwhelmed or insecure. It was my preferred method of self sabotage. I was addicted to the feeling, and I couldn’t stop.

I didn’t think it mattered.

I was careful. The scars from the ‘harmless’ habit were minimal, and the swelling nearly always went away by the morning.

No big deal.

Only it was a big deal.

By picking at my face I was making an affirmation every night. I was affirming to my reflection that I was imperfect. I was affirming to my reflection that I was undeserving of beauty or success or love.

Every time I picked, I held myself back a little bit more. I was giving my fear power over me.

I’ve learned something this year: We are not made up of compartments.

This learning was prompted by a quote from Lena Dunham in her book ‘Not that Kind of Girl.’

“This isn’t how it works. When someone shows you how little you mean to them and you keep coming back for more, before you know it you start to mean less to yourself. You are not made up of compartments! You are one whole person! What gets said to you gets said to all of you, ditto what gets done. Being treated like shit is not an amusing game or a transgressive intellectual experiment. It’s something you accept, condone, and learn to believe you deserve. This is so simple. But I tried so hard to make it complicated. “

I am not made up of compartments. Neither are you. How I treat my external appearance is a direct reflection of how I treat myself. When I take the time to do what’s necessary to help me feel beautiful, I’m also taking the conscious action to treat who I am with respect.

But there’s also a difference between hiding your beauty and embracing your beauty. I think that anytime you let your physical appearance hold you back from living – I’m not going to jump in that pool because I don’t want to get my hair wet – you’re not embracing your beauty.

Yet, external beauty is superficial. It’s all very confusing.

Beauty is more than just external appearances, but it is part of it.

I recently read ‘The Second Sex’ by Simone deBeauvoir. In it, she shares:

“The woman knows that when people look at her, they do not distinguish her from her appearance: she is judged, respected, or desired in relation to how she looks,” she said.

That’s precisely why I used to fight against my appearance. I hated this. I didn’t want to be judged based on my appearance. I wanted to be respected because of my intelligence.

She goes on:

“Misogynists have often reproached intellectual women for “letting themselves go”; but they also preach to them: if you want to be our equals, stop wearing makeup and polishing your nails. This advice is absurd. Precisely because the idea of femininity is artificially defined by customs and fashion, it is imposed on every woman from the outside… the individual is not free to shape the idea of femininity…. A woman who has no desire to shock, no intention to devalue herself socially, had to live her woman’s condition as a woman: very often her professional success even requires it.”

It seems that there is a catch 22 that I’m not sure how to get out of.

What I know, for me, is that I feel good dressing up. I feel good playing with my appearance. I don’t think of myself as constrained underneath my physical appearance. I believe that my beauty surpasses how I look in any given moment. I believe that I am beautiful because who I am as a person.

I’ve stopped picking. I haven’t done it in months and no longer feel the impulse.

I’m learning that the external manifestation of my internal world is important. Taking care of myself is just another way that I’m taking control over my reality. And that feels good. Even if this whole beauty thing is still confusing.