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"Even if it makes others uncomfortable I will love who I am." - Janelle Monae

My beauty blog has been on hiatus for quite a while now, and I'm undecided about when I'll get it going again (or even if). No, I haven't stopped loving makeup and makeup artistry-- I think what has changed most for me (aside from moving to an area where I don't feel the need to be so made up all the time, and not working full-time out of the house anymore) is that I've been feeling increasingly estranged from beauty blogging and social media.

Go ahead and check the Instagram page for any major beauty brand or retailer-- what do you notice about the models and influencers they regularly feature? You do get some racial diversity. You get some body diversity. You even get some gender diversity. You very rarely get all these things at the same time. And you almost never get anyone who looks like they're older than 30. (I mean, there probably are major influencers who are over 30, but they usually don't look it.)

I've said quite often that representation matters, and I see myself rarely enough. I feel like I'm seeing myself in the beauty world less and less. It hasn't changed my love for makeup, but it has changed my eagerness to be a part (however small) of beauty media. It's never very motivating for me to feel unwanted. Some people can take that as a challenge and run with it, muscling their way in and creating a space for themselves. Me, I want to slip quietly out the back door and go home, and change into some PJs, and watch some Poldark.

Besides, it's kinda nice buying some makeup and then enjoying it right away without worrying about getting some good product photographs before I get my grubby hands all over it. Or looking presentable for FOTD pictures (because sometimes I really just don't feel like being on camera!)

Anyway... this is but a small part of some more general thoughts I've been having about 1) my looks, 2) my age (I turn 35 soon), and 3) whether/how much I actually want to care about either of those things. I've never been afraid of getting older (but I guess I've always looked young for my age, so it's never been a concern), and for the most part, I've come to a good detente with my body about my shape and size. But every now and then, my insecurities rear their ugly heads (as I'm sure happens to everyone, right?)

Media (social or otherwise) has a lot to do with it. I can feel my self-esteem meter plummeting when I spend more time browsing makeup or fashion sites. Or seeing articles praising celebrities for their bodies, especially if they're super-busy moms/careerwomen who manage to DO IT ALL.

I Facebook-stalked stumbled upon the profile of someone I vaguely know through other people, and it was apparent from her profile (as my subsequent freakout on FB stated) that she and I were very similar in a bunch of different ways, but also she's younger, thinner, and prettier than I am, and though I don't really know her, I know that we have a lot of mutuals who really like her, and therefore, my brain also filled in that she must be more interesting, effortlessly cool, and likeable than I am too. (Brains are such awful things sometimes, aren't they?)

So yeah, that wasn't an especially fun moment of my weekend.

I gave myself some time to work through it (and thank you to all my FB friends who commented encouragingly! It really meant a lot!), and I ended up coming to a conclusion: So what?

So what if I'm not pretty, young, or thin? So what if I'm not effortlessly likeable and interesting? So what if I DO want to just put on PJs and watch Poldark instead of going to parties that I don't get invited to anyway?

I have a pretty great life regardless.

"Pretty" is subjective anyway.

"Young" is nothing I can do anything about.

"Thin" is nothing I care to do anything about.

And I don't think I'm an easy person to love, but I have a good amount of people who say they love me, so I must be worth it somehow.

I have never been, nor will I ever be, that perfect magazine girl who looks like she's got it all together. I mean, it's a farce anyway, right? Even the girls in magazines these days can't ever really be perfect magazine girls in real life (thanks, Photoshop!).

This is me. This is my reality:

I'm tired. Stressed out. Blemished. Scarred. I am flawed inside and out. I don't always do the right thing. I'm not always likeable or attractive. I definitely don't know how to be "hot." I don't know how to take perfect selfies, and I can't keep up with the beauty world anymore.

But you know what? I've got it pretty good anyway, even with all those things "wrong" with me. So I must be doing something right. And maybe I should just keep focusing on that.