I’ve been going through this phase lately where I’m borderline obsessed with how I look. I think about it constantly. I stand in front of the mirror every morning analyzing whether or not my shoes make my feet look big. Is my sunburn peeling on my forehead? Do these shorts make my ass look nice or weird and I think you can see my bra strap but I can’t tell if that’s risky-cool or risky-get over-yourself.

It’s too hot to wear my hair down but I think I look better but I don’t actually know if I care so I’m putting my hair in a bun. But does that look stupid? I don’t have enough bobby pins. Fuck. I’d braid it, but then I’ll look like a baby.

So I leave the house and walk past a store window and I stop and notice that my shirt is clinging to my stomach. Why didn’t I notice that before? I sigh and keep walking but fuck my shoes hurt and why didn’t I wear the ugly comfy ones and I think there’s already a sweat stain forming and then I feel sad and gross and avoid eye contact with everyone because all I can think about is that boring but normal outfit I left on my bed and should’ve worn instead.

Lately I’ve been borderline obsessed with how I look, and I think it’s because I’m borderline obsessed with impressing this person who probably doesn’t even notice what shirt I’m wearing and doesn’t care whether my ass looks nice. He probably does notice my sweat stain, but whatever. We’re all human, people.

The amount of time we put into getting ready is actually pathetic. Sure, sometimes it’s fun to experiment with your makeup a bit and try on that new top and drink some wine and have a little mirror party. You’re doing it for yourself and it makes you feel good, and feeling good is awesome. But when you think you need to look amazing and flawless because you want someone else to think you are amazing and flawless, that’s a different story. This doesn’t make you feel good. In fact, it actually makes you feel a little sad.

I was expressing this to a very beautiful soul I know and telling her that I knew I was being stupid and I knew I was bigger than this and I just needed her to pull me out of this stupid little rut. She said these wise words that will forever change how I look at myself in the mirror:

“Why waste your time impressing someone who doesn’t give a shit about impressing you?”

And just like that, I didn’t give a shit that my hair was in a bun and my feet maybe looked a bit big. I still cared about my sweat stain though (despite the fact we’re all human, people).

I really, really love my life and really, really love myself and know that I am a really, really wonderful person with a life full of equally wonderful people. And nothing about how I look is going to change these really, really important things.

Lately I’ve been borderline obsessed with how I look. But in the span of one very short sentence, I felt myself become borderline obsessed with enjoying my fucking beautiful life.