After stepping out of the shower this morning I stood facing the mirror with my eyes closed, lazily working shea butter into my face, when a sudden warmth on my skin made me open my eyes and look towards the window. As I blinked into the new morning sun, I caught a glimpse of my reflection bathed in shea butter and sunlight, and decided it was the perfect time to take a little selfie. No mascara, no lip gloss, no nothing. Just freshly showered melanin poppin in the sunlight!
As I later scrolled through the pictures I had taken, deciding which ones to keep or discard – there might have been more than one selfie taken, don’t judge – I found myself admiring the way I looked in them. Yes, I was actually liking mehself in that moment. And why not? My eyes were bright, my wrinkles were few and my purple-ish locs were growing nicely. Then, as quickly as the feelings of admiration had come, they were replaced with a feeling of embarrassment at my shameful, conceited behavior. Imagine looking in the mirror and thinking you look good!
But before my mind could tumble further down the familiar rabbit hole of low self-esteem, loathing my appearance and finding fault with everything about me, I quietly told myself that the voice trying to “humble” me wasn’t mine. The voice belonged to my mother, my biggest hater. And although she died in 2018, I can still hear her talking shit about me. However, this morning instead of giving in to the pull of self-negativity, I quickly reminded myself of the origins of those thoughts, let out a little chuckle and shook my head as I recalled some of the things my mother used to tell me about myself. Things like, and I quote:
I’m going to get your nose fixed for you. (I never asked)
You’re so blasted lazy, you wouldn’t even make a good prostitute. (I was 10 at the time)
How did you get a solo/part in the play, didn’t anybody else audition?
Do you think you’re here for your good looks that you don’t even have?
You have no fucking ambition, and you’ll never amount to anything.
I should’ve had an abortion.
You were adopted.
These and lots of other negative, hurtful words were a constant in my life. One day in particular her verbal assaults made 13-year-old me locked herself in the bathroom and, staring at her reflection with tears streaming down, demand that God tell me why He had made me so ugly. I then proceeded to shave off one of my eyebrows. Ah…good times!
But now at my big retirement age, the same person who never liked to have her picture taken is constantly taking pictures of herself. In fact, I’m a regular selfie queen! These days looking at myself, whether in pictures or passing by a mirror. My reflection no longer fills me with embarrassment, leaving me wishing I had a face that people don’t make fun of. At this late stage of my life, I have no complaints about the flat nose, too big eyes or the grey pubic hairs. The turkey neck, sparse eyebrows and bat wing arms? All mine! Yeah, my belly is jiggly and so are the insides of my thighs. So what? Most days I think I look good. And even when I do look like shit, I still like what I see when I look in the mirror. That’s a confidence I didn’t have growing up. Because it wasn’t just my mother, it was the kids in school. Literally, all my childhood I had to fight people about my looks. I also didn’t have this confidence in my thirties. And even through decades of therapy and medications, I have honestly only started not hating my face since reaching my late forties. So yeah, this confidence thing of mine – that might sometimes come across as conceit – it’s kind of new. And I like it here!
I say all this to say, please know that the taking and posting of selfies will continue. And while I do still become uncomfortable as fuck whenever someone tries to compliment me, I’m also learning to not become irritated and defensive (because I automatically assume they’re lying and just trying to blow smoke up my ass) and to accept the compliment graciously. That’s called growth, people! Better late than never, huh?
But do you want to know what else I noticed while looking over my selfies? I noticed that at the age of 64, I now look exactly like my mother. When I say God’s got jokes…
HAPPY NEW YEAR 2025!!
