Having a curve figure with that busty looks, and eyelashes that can quake the world don’t merely make you a 100 percent woman. Chewing steak in manner, laughing softly and walking slowly also are not embodied a lady. Scare of bugs, worms; fake the cooking skills and eager in shopping don’t mean you’re a female.
What does it take to be a woman?
What is it of being a woman?
I used to ask myself a lot of this topic. When I was 14 yrs old, I labeled myself a boyish, badass girl – with bashful and introverted trait. I was my brothers’ bodyguard, as I would punch and fight anyone who messed with them. Especially the boys that were on my age, why did they always get on my nerves? I stil don’t get it anyway.
Grew up and moved to senior high, I had my moment of “seeing” other girls at school. This time, I was really looking at them, observing them from the tip of their hairs to the toes. Whether it was my hormone or something, I was getting self-conscious of how I looked and how people and friends would view me. This contributed to how I looked at myself. Yes, back then I was big, with fats here and there. My face looked bigger with jiggles because of the number shown on the scale. While most of my senior high friends were evidently pretty and lean, my sport-enthusiasm seemed to hate me. No matter how often and hard I did basketball or other sports, I was no super-model body compared to my girl friends. And that’s suck to its roots.
Still with my boyish sense, I didn’t care of it. I played drums in a school band with my close friends and I was happy. I did cosplay and visited gigs with these close friends, and I was happy. I run the internal editor position for the school magazine and engaged in the annual Arts and Music Festival to handle some performers and donations, and I was really happy. I had crush with a boy at the school, but I didn’t do anything as I assumed he’d like a pretty, slim gf – and I wasn’t, so I kept it silent – and I was happy. I had great scores in the National Final Exam, was going to go to university; and I was happy. What else was matter?
In the University phase of life, I learned to be independent, brave and “smart”. I had to wake myself up that life’s started to get harsh and harsher. From the assignment deadlines, met annoying and spoiled brats people in teamwork assignments to those sleepless nights when I tried to complete my final thesis, my classes and go to work in the nocturnal hours.
Now? Life’s pretty much multihued. I just think I’m too tired comparing myself with others. I’m slightly too busy to think of so-called “perfection” of being a grown-up woman. I give up looking myself in the mirror and then disgust her, mock her and push her to be the woman the media shows. I accept myself as I am: A crier, sensitive, lovable and care person; loving adventure, beach, travel and sports; fond of cooking, reading and writing; having eyes towards pretty shoes, dresses and all things women.
At certain point, I may burp in front of people and I couldn’t care less, everyone does that, naturally! In some other moment, I can also cry myself a river or shout out angrily like a volcano. I tend to think of everything, every little details of every single thing, and sometimes I am worn out. That’s fine, because I also accomplish goals from this (exasperating) feature of mine.
So, what is it being a woman? I’d say, simply being myself. Do what you feel it’s right and ignore others’ opinion and rejection. I repeat, IGNORE others. I know what I like, what I dislike; what things make me happy and when I allow the world to make me cry and mad. Seize your spotlight!
Now, I recognize that putting a label to one self equals nothing. If one has labeled her/himself, she/he would likely live in her/his labeled-life. I can say I am no adventurer, writer, fashion-enthusiast, diver, blogger or loser. Those are bull. Is it off beam if a woman likes a pair of Loub’s pointed heels, with a pair of running shoes, novels, writing, amid the sparkling bracelet and huge rings, NorthFace pants, backpacks, a set of scuba gear and a peach lipgloss? There is a great deal of images and rules a woman have to follow in order to survive and live in the society.
I tell you, you’re not ugly; society is.
Have a beautiful day!