Since I’ve been an adult, I’ve had short hair. It’s usually cut into a bob which naturally curls out. In part, it’s self-preservation: I have extremely thick hair that tends to split if it gets past my shoulders.
Recently, however, I let it grow longer. Well, I say “let” but it was more a case of consistently forgetting get it cut. I had started up working a bunch of overtime and my hair was one of the things that slipped through the cracks.
So it got long. People started to notice. I suddenly got a lot of compliments on my hair and my general appearance. Men started to do the stop and stare more often.
Clearly, I look more beautiful with longer hair…or at least, society seems to view me as more beautiful with longer hair.
Then, I cut my hair again. Back to the bob…see, the thing is, I didn’t like my hair long. Oh, I appreciated the attention I was getting, don’t get me wrong; I like to be seen as beautiful as much as the next girl.
I like to feel beautiful more, though. Long hair, however attractive on me, does not suit my personality. I’m not big on the whole beauty process…I don’t have the patience, talent or inclination to perfect my appearance. I admire and respect the women who do, but that’s just not me.
It’s funny, because I’ve been told by several people that I have the build and looks to be “model pretty” if only I’d devote more time to my appearance. Learn how to wear makeup that covers my cystic acne scars, style my hair, choose a better wardrobe. Flaunt my small, slight figure and play up my delicate features.
But all that requires effort. Effort I don’t want to put in.
It’s not ashamed that I’m thin and have good lucks. I don’t hide my figure under shapeless bags–in fact, I prefer well-fitting clothes. I won’t be intimidated or mocked because I have, through genetics and a healthy lifestyle, a slender figure. I love jewelry (fair trade only) and I love the gleam my hair gets when I wash it. It’s been years now since I’ve put any kind of chemicals on it and it’s never been bleached or dyed: all natural, baby! I know that I’m decently attractive and that’s enough for me. Going to more effort doesn’t make me happy…in fact, it just makes me insecure and miserable. From what I’ve learned, it’s a trait I share with other INFP females.
This is related to another trait of mine: I don’t like the selfie trend. I’ll take one every now and then when the mood strikes, but I feel like the camera often only records the flaws on my skin and doesn’t capture the emotions that moved me to feel beautiful. Whenever I try to get that perfect selfie, whenever I dress up specifically to please others or the camera, I fail. Looking at the picture later, my eyes are drawn to the scars and bags under my eyes; the wild mess that is my hair.
“How can this be beautiful?” I’ll think. My eyes aren’t lit up, my hair doesn’t gleam. I can’t reach the perfection of American beauty; and I don’t look happy in those selfies.
In the end, happy is the best kind of beautiful I have. For me, this means a chin-length bob, little-to-no make up, hippy-ish accessories, small and quiet jewelry and simple clothing.
That’s me, folks. Healthy and happy with my appearance: therefore, beautiful.