ok, this post is a little more personal. but it still stays true to the topic of black beauty and fashion….
Where to begin? Looking all around me, I am bombarded with images of beautiful women, of all races and colors.
Growing up, I felt like I could never compare to those gorgeous women. For years, I never felt pretty. I felt like “the ugly one” out of all my friends. I was stuck in an awkward phase for years it seemed. I was too tall, my eyes too squinty, my face was too round, cheeks too fat, lips to full….the list went on forever. I towered over most people in middle school, even the boys
At the time I didn’t realize that my search for beauty was actually my own self destruction.
Freshman year in high school was terrible. There was so much pressure. You had to wear certain clothes, look a certain way, and act accordingly. It was a lot to deal with, so I began to pick myself apart. I found everything that I felt was wrong with me.
And the biggest problem? I had all the typical traits of a black girl, yet none of the good ones.
As they years progressed, thing just seemed to get worse. Growing up in a family full of curvy women, I remained slender. Its clear that most black women are usually curvy and “thick” and that men found that attractive. Most black girls wanted to be a sex symbol. That was beauty at its finest. Long hair, light skin, huge butt and large breast made you something to desire.
I had none of that. My hair was short, no butt at all, and I was stuck as a dumb B-cup. I was shape-less. I had nothing to desire. Why would anybody think I was pretty? Hell, I didn’t even believe it myself.
I tore myself part piece by piece. My friends never really noticed I was struggling internally. I never talked to anyone about it.
And as far as fashion goes…I felt like I had to wear whatever was in. I had to wear the best, it was all I could do to feel somewhat pretty. The clothes made me feel better somewhat, but still, I just knew people only thought the outfit was cute, not me. It got to the point where I hated for people to look at me for more than a few seconds. Even though people in my family constantly said I was “such a gorgeous young lady”, I felt they only aid so because they were related to me; they HAD to say things like that.
The term “inner beauty” meant nothing to me. It was all, or nothing.
Around junior year, I began to get more into the fashion scene. I loved reading fashion magazines and looking online at major fashion collections. Those pictures were not only of beautiful white girls, or perfect black girls, but of different girls of all races. They all were different and had lots of features to admire. They were not the typical picture of beauty I grew up knowing. These girls had beautiful big eyes, full lips, small eyes…all their imperfections added to their beautiful appearance.
Discovering that all the things that made me stand out made my beautiful, slowly I began to appreciate myself more.
Slowly but surely, I became confident in my looks. I grew to love my height. My full lips made me feel sexy.
My fat face, ok, I’m still not to fond of that. But my height became something I took great pride in. My slim body looked good in so many styles and fashions. How amazing….
I love who I am and how I look. It took time, but I learned that imperfections are truly beautiful. I grew up thinking that as a Black girl, I had to have a huge butt and be the object of affection to every guy.
But as long as I have the ability to catch just a few eyes, then I’m pretty enough.
And If my butt never fills out, I won’t lose any sleep over it.
Although it would be nice….
(=

HELLO BEAUTIFUL♥


“African-American women spend $7.5 billion annually on beauty products, which is 80 percent more than the general market. The reason it’s such a dramatic difference is attributed to the fact that African-American women have to sample more products to find the right ones for their skin.”
