March 2, 2011

Size And Beauty

Apparantly I'm wasting away. To my father that is. You see his idea of a woman is a full one. Plump and ripe and nothing to do with size 10 or smaller (maybe a size 14 even). I'm a size 6 up top (I wasn't blessed with my mother's upper robustness) and size 8 below (but it seems I have adopted her back end storage unit). But really, to him, I'm sickly and lacking...excuse me while I wipe his anxiety off my shoulder. So I have to really consider this, what size is beautiful and who is it beautiful to? In Africa men break a neck for convex curvature, hip hop honeys die in a hotel room to get bigger wotsits but then in parts of Europe they revel longitudinal narrowness and some models stop eating to achieve it.

The reality? Well here it is: I was talking size with the boutique (Saint Best) that stocks my wears and to my astonishment the next orders comprise of size 10 and above. Apparently, the larger sizes went faster and are more in demand. UM? whatever happened to the size 8's? Statistics tell me that the average British dress size is 16 (up two points in the last decade or so). I was going to guess a size 12 but I couldn't have been any more wrong! D'oh.

But when I really consider it, what does size matter anyway if you look and feel good, right? Cliché? Not so, I know (and have dressed) naturally underweight and overweight women and the difference between the desirable and undesirable is confidence...that is the truth I tell you. The desirable really give little care to others ideas of who they are, their confidence makes you so dizzy with awe that the imperfections are drowned completely from thought. In fact, those imperfections somehow become the very thing you like and respect, they become their trademark...alchemy! So stock confidence abundantly. Not to make you just desirable but to ultimately make you happy.

Your happiness, esteem and beliefs should have little to do with other people. Which sets up my next point nicely. Next cliché...Beauty really is in the eye of the 'beholder'. SO TRUE...wait for it, it will all make sense shortly. I'm beautiful to some and not beautiful to all (it's a harsh world out there). Queue epiphany: The ones who don't find me attractive have nothing at all to do with me...they don't like me because I'm not THEIR type. Not my own. It doesn't mean I'm not beautiful. Just not to them. So I reject the tendency to internalise a choice and don't allow it to touch my self esteem.

The 'beholder' is me because I'm MY type (not others idea of me) as should your 'beholder' be you. This should be making sense now. I've stopped questioning the idea of beauty to the modern or traditional man or any man for that matter - gosh that will have me pulled in multiple ways and leave me depressed. Besides after years on earth, it's duly noted I'll never win being pushed and pulled between your idea, their idea, his idea, other ideas of beauty and many a more things. Instead, I conjure my own idea of beauty and make me the centre of it because for me beauty and the world is through my eyes. Since I'll never see things the way anyone else does I can only define everything in my own terms.

Also consider this...beauty is usually questioned where low self esteem allows it and that can be applied to who you are and what you do.

Amores toujours

Me Me

August 28, 2010

Black Girls

That's it I want my natural hair back. It wasn't until a friend sent me the link of this blog (Le Coil) with all these very beautiful au natural black girls, that I began aching with jealousy and regret...kissing my teeth - like it could sprout little black coils from my roots. If you're not in the know (that's most of the non black world) a black girls hair is not naturally dead straight. That's right, it's curly in degrees, from very loose to very tight and if you do not see this type of hair sprouting from her roots then it is one of the following; chemically straightened, straightened, a weave, bonded, braided, or a wig. *shock, horror* - The people at work will wonder what they've been touching and the girls will hate me for drawing even more attention. desole

It's funny, I'm wishing for the same little coils the little childish imps at school taunted the thicked haired for. They would call it 'peppergrain' like they were dirty insects scavenging the corners of your hairline. lol. Or you had 'Picky hair'. I understand peppergrain (on account of black circles of hair like balls of peppercorn or grain) but I never quite understood why your hair could be termed 'picky'....did you want to pick it?

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April 4, 2010

Dealing With My Androgyny

...It's probably the most powerful and attention seeking look I've had. I've been thinking about it *I also think La Roux, Agyness Deyne, Grace Jones, David Bowie, Prince, Tilda Swinton and despite not trying, they all exude some sort of coolness without expecting to. This of course is when I question my choice, they help to remind me it is fitting....I'm hoping my exuding is doing the same (fingers crossed). It seems to me the ultimate principle of androgyny is Samsonite, in other words

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March 15, 2010

Update

(but I'm still sketching)

This is what it looks like: my only comfort from my viral defeat...a couch, duvet, magazine and my sketchings. I'm hoping to use a couple as my tee shirt giveaway (send your emails info@mercime.co.uk to receive further info). The rest i'm rotating: Scrubs, FashionTV, the world wide web and my phone. In fact I'd much rather leave the phone out since my mouth is the only thing I can breathe in & out from and talking effectively means I'm slowly suffocating myself. I'm on Benylin Cold & Flu (Max strength capsules) but the damn thing seems not to work. Blast! In fact I hate being sick when the sun is alive and well...and shining those few hours longer. Double blast!! My stomach is filled with the air I keep sucking in from my snotty nose so I feel hungry all the time and when I attempt to breathe through my nostrils I feels whips of stings and my eyes start tearing. Sneezing now hurts my throat but I detest it when I feel like sneezing but nothing comes. I'm eating a bananna, drinking hot water, left sketching for research and I've dodgily painted my nails pink (see below).

and decided that these are the colours my nails will wear for the next couple of months:

And that dear gentle people is my update...I have so much more to say but I'm afraid I can no longer go on. Au reviour for now.

Amore Toujours

Me
Me