[Content Warning added 20Jan2014 for use of ableist slurs.]
I just remembered - the first time I did it, and why.
I mean, as I've mentioned already, I'd been scratching since forever. But that was about the limit of it, until I was, oh, I guess eleven or twelve. I used to buy this magazine called SHOUT!. I think they still sell it today. A kind of teen magazine for pre-teens who wanted to feel older than they were; a smaller, cheaper and tackier version of Sugar, giving away free lipsticks or hair pins or sequinned purses with every issue. And they had this article, one fortnight, on looking after your complexion.
You should never squeeze out your spots, they will heal faster if you leave them alone, read the first sentence. Well, that wasn't news; I figured every idiot knew that much. And who'd want to squeeze a spot anyway? That's the kind of thing that gross, greasy teenage boys do when nobody is looking. Yuck.
And then the next sentence, and the real point of the article: But if you feel you really must squeeze them, then this is how best to do it.
It wasn't just curiosity. This was meant to be a magazine for cool, pretty girls. The implication was that cool, pretty girls just have to get rid of that spot. That a compulsion to squeeze them out is healthy and normal, and that only an ugly retarded freak would leave it sitting there for the whole world to see.
I was tired of being a retarded freak. I guess I had started buying SHOUT! in the hope that maybe, just maybe, it could teach me to be a cool, pretty, popular kid.
Fuck you, SHOUT! magazine.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Friday, July 25, 2008
Happy Shiny Freckles
Lah!
Okay. So life is good. And it's nice to write that, because usually when I come back here to write something, it's because everything has gone horribly wrong. BUT! Posts here are not particularly regular - and it's VERY worth noting that, when I am not posting psychotic rantings, I'm really doing rather well ^_^
I have a week off work this week and I've been kinda bored sometimes during the day (but not going to the mirror just for something to do like I would have a couple years ago :P) so I visited the SPOM! board for the first time in ages. I realised just how long it had been since I was last there when I saw a private message that somebody had sent me way back in May! So I replied, and she replied, and the end result is that I am getting free copies of the novel "A New You" sent to me in the post, and I can give them to libraries and stuff and then more people can read this book and hopefully gain a better understanding and awareness of dtM! *dances* I feel all sexy and important! See me contribute stuffs!
For more information on the book "A New You", see this SPOM thread:
http://www.stoppickingonme.com/bb/viewtopic.php?t=4133
I mean it! Open it up in a new tab right now!
Also, on Monday evening I am finally going to take the SPOM! cards that Jane sent me (three months ago, lol) to my local doctor's surgery, as I last went for a checkup just before I received the cards, so this is the first time I've been to my doctor since. And I'm going to ask if I can leave them on the counter so people can take one, and thus further awarenesses shall be spread, oh yus >:D
This is AMAZING. When I first found out about this being an actual disorder, and not just me being a total fuck-up in my own special and disgusting little way, I did read some threads on message boards that made reference to raising awareness: giving lectures in schools, getting onto chat shows, documentaries, and so on and so on. And way back then, that was like, EEK. I mean, I appreciated that it was an excellent idea, but... something for OTHER people to do, you know? Because I couldn't possibly. I couldn't possibly stand up in front of all those people and tell them that no, I don't have chicken pox, and no, I don't have acne or any other kind of skin complaint, and no, I don't need to find 'the right face wash product for me' - couldn't possibly throw away every lie that I had ever let anyone believe and just tell them that I did it to myself, every night, and couldn't stop. The mere thought of it made me feel like a hunted rabbit.
And now... Why is it different now? Is it just because I don't look that way anymore, because my skin is now more often clear than not? Or is it because I am gaining confidence simply from knowing that I am beating this, not all at once, not with a magic cure, but day by day by day just not giving up and forgiving myself for the mistakes and keeping going, and then looking back every so often and going, "WOW! Look how far I came!"
I don't go to mirrors deliberately anymore. I can't remember the last time I did - maybe more than a year ago. I didn't realise that until a couple of days ago, and when I did, I made myself take a moment to just simply sit and feel enormously proud of myself. Focussing on the positive is very important - I think a large part of this disorder stems from being a perfectionist, from dismissing the things that go well as just 'normal' and making a huge deal out of the tiniest slip-up or the smallest blocked pore. We ignore the good and see only the bad. THIS is what needs changing.
Of course I do still make mistakes. The mistakes usually happen when I catch my reflection in passing - when I need to go to the bathroom and that big old mirror is just THERE. Caleb drew a smiley face in the corner of my bathroom mirror. A lot of the time, that helps some. And what's REALLY fantastic is that I am moving into a little studio flat of my own in a couple of weeks - and this means...
I CAN DO WHATEVER I WANT WITH THE MIRRORS.
It's going to be amazing. When I looked around the place, I noted there was a large wall mirror in the hallway, and a small stand-up mirror on the shelf over the bathroom sink. Well they will both get put away in the big bathroom cupboard, faces against the wall, as my first act as tenant. Since I don't go to mirrors deliberately anymore, that ought to be enough - just to have them out of the way where they won't catch me unawares. I guess I will have to take one out to do my hair every morning so I don't turn up to work looking like I got dragged through a hedge backwards, but I am hoping this will be okay. Especially if I put it a few feet away from me - three cheers for being short-sighted.
Well! I think I am now going to go and find a little café somewhere and order myself a decaff cappuccino and some doorstep toast, and sit reading American Gods and watch the world go by. After all. I deserve to reward myself ^__^
Project Authenticity Editorial Note 18th Feb 2012:
'I feel all sexy and important! See me contribute stuffs!' --- (from the third paragraph)
I find it interesting, in retrospect, that I have always been so quick to crowbar a sexual implication into the expression of my feelings without really noticing what I'm doing. In addition to the above example, I can recall countless occasions when I have jestingly referred to myself as a prostitute when describing attributes of myself that I perceive as negative, or think that others will perceive as negative. Lazy whore. Sarcastic ho-bag. Silly tart. Greedy slut. The strong and completely unconscious connection I draw above between sexy and important is very telling, I think. At this time, in my mind, they were one and the same thing. When I felt important, I felt sexy. And when I failed at being sexy - which I considered to be the case the overwhelming majority of the time - I failed at being important, and thus became wholly insignificant in my own eyes. I very much doubt I am alone in this. I think vast legions of girls are growing up in a world that teaches them to value themselves this way.
Okay. So life is good. And it's nice to write that, because usually when I come back here to write something, it's because everything has gone horribly wrong. BUT! Posts here are not particularly regular - and it's VERY worth noting that, when I am not posting psychotic rantings, I'm really doing rather well ^_^
I have a week off work this week and I've been kinda bored sometimes during the day (but not going to the mirror just for something to do like I would have a couple years ago :P) so I visited the SPOM! board for the first time in ages. I realised just how long it had been since I was last there when I saw a private message that somebody had sent me way back in May! So I replied, and she replied, and the end result is that I am getting free copies of the novel "A New You" sent to me in the post, and I can give them to libraries and stuff and then more people can read this book and hopefully gain a better understanding and awareness of dtM! *dances* I feel all sexy and important! See me contribute stuffs!
For more information on the book "A New You", see this SPOM thread:
http://www.stoppickingonme.com/bb/viewtopic.php?t=4133
I mean it! Open it up in a new tab right now!
Also, on Monday evening I am finally going to take the SPOM! cards that Jane sent me (three months ago, lol) to my local doctor's surgery, as I last went for a checkup just before I received the cards, so this is the first time I've been to my doctor since. And I'm going to ask if I can leave them on the counter so people can take one, and thus further awarenesses shall be spread, oh yus >:D
This is AMAZING. When I first found out about this being an actual disorder, and not just me being a total fuck-up in my own special and disgusting little way, I did read some threads on message boards that made reference to raising awareness: giving lectures in schools, getting onto chat shows, documentaries, and so on and so on. And way back then, that was like, EEK. I mean, I appreciated that it was an excellent idea, but... something for OTHER people to do, you know? Because I couldn't possibly. I couldn't possibly stand up in front of all those people and tell them that no, I don't have chicken pox, and no, I don't have acne or any other kind of skin complaint, and no, I don't need to find 'the right face wash product for me' - couldn't possibly throw away every lie that I had ever let anyone believe and just tell them that I did it to myself, every night, and couldn't stop. The mere thought of it made me feel like a hunted rabbit.
And now... Why is it different now? Is it just because I don't look that way anymore, because my skin is now more often clear than not? Or is it because I am gaining confidence simply from knowing that I am beating this, not all at once, not with a magic cure, but day by day by day just not giving up and forgiving myself for the mistakes and keeping going, and then looking back every so often and going, "WOW! Look how far I came!"
I don't go to mirrors deliberately anymore. I can't remember the last time I did - maybe more than a year ago. I didn't realise that until a couple of days ago, and when I did, I made myself take a moment to just simply sit and feel enormously proud of myself. Focussing on the positive is very important - I think a large part of this disorder stems from being a perfectionist, from dismissing the things that go well as just 'normal' and making a huge deal out of the tiniest slip-up or the smallest blocked pore. We ignore the good and see only the bad. THIS is what needs changing.
Of course I do still make mistakes. The mistakes usually happen when I catch my reflection in passing - when I need to go to the bathroom and that big old mirror is just THERE. Caleb drew a smiley face in the corner of my bathroom mirror. A lot of the time, that helps some. And what's REALLY fantastic is that I am moving into a little studio flat of my own in a couple of weeks - and this means...
I CAN DO WHATEVER I WANT WITH THE MIRRORS.
It's going to be amazing. When I looked around the place, I noted there was a large wall mirror in the hallway, and a small stand-up mirror on the shelf over the bathroom sink. Well they will both get put away in the big bathroom cupboard, faces against the wall, as my first act as tenant. Since I don't go to mirrors deliberately anymore, that ought to be enough - just to have them out of the way where they won't catch me unawares. I guess I will have to take one out to do my hair every morning so I don't turn up to work looking like I got dragged through a hedge backwards, but I am hoping this will be okay. Especially if I put it a few feet away from me - three cheers for being short-sighted.
Well! I think I am now going to go and find a little café somewhere and order myself a decaff cappuccino and some doorstep toast, and sit reading American Gods and watch the world go by. After all. I deserve to reward myself ^__^
Project Authenticity Editorial Note 18th Feb 2012:
'I feel all sexy and important! See me contribute stuffs!' --- (from the third paragraph)
I find it interesting, in retrospect, that I have always been so quick to crowbar a sexual implication into the expression of my feelings without really noticing what I'm doing. In addition to the above example, I can recall countless occasions when I have jestingly referred to myself as a prostitute when describing attributes of myself that I perceive as negative, or think that others will perceive as negative. Lazy whore. Sarcastic ho-bag. Silly tart. Greedy slut. The strong and completely unconscious connection I draw above between sexy and important is very telling, I think. At this time, in my mind, they were one and the same thing. When I felt important, I felt sexy. And when I failed at being sexy - which I considered to be the case the overwhelming majority of the time - I failed at being important, and thus became wholly insignificant in my own eyes. I very much doubt I am alone in this. I think vast legions of girls are growing up in a world that teaches them to value themselves this way.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)