To the perfect girls in WVSU, from a not-so-perfect me:

Lately I have been pampering my self a little more than I used to. I’ve realized that looking pleasant and appropriate is important in public relations now that I do a lot of talking to other people because of my practice teaching stint. I try to wash my hair every single day and apply sunscreen lotion every post bath and brush my long hair every night. But hell, it’s a lot of work. All I wanted to be is a girl who smells good and looks as if I have my self together but I get so bored with all these rituals and I can’t decide if it’s worth my time or not.


Trust me, I have been with beautiful people. My classmate, Sam, for example is a beauty queen. I have dealt with TV presenters, actresses and even models whose legs extends indefinitely. I am fine with these glossy women and I adore them. I'm fine being so common but then it hit me just now...

I was walking down the street near VMG just this morning when this girl in heels and sun dress appeared out of nowhere standing before me. She was so composed and confident in her heels and her hair is coiffed so perfectly and her curls were colorful and alive, both spring-like in texture and aesthetic. Like a unicorn sighting, it left me enchanted and bewildered.

I am just a girl from a place where malls are scant in number and the mode of transportation is a motorcycle - you may say I'm a little 'buki'. It just so happened that I have to finish my education and live a quarter of my young-adulthood in this city. I know what people look like here and I know what girls and women look like here. There are several kinds of pretty going on—there’s this picturesque women I just described, there’s women who bring to the table this fresh-faced thing that’s so vibrant, there’s this girl with short hair and still manages to look so feminine, women who look thrown together, natural and effortless, but thrown together.

If someone’s reading this blog since day one, you probably know that I am not the kind of girl who fuss so much about how she looks. I am not consumed by looks and I don’t own a dress or a pair of heels. I don’t know what’s hot this season and I don’t have latest issue of Cosmo. I wear make-up (if a press powder, mascara and a nivea lip balm is make-up) and I grow hair on my legs and arms. Sometimes, I find it very taxing to put on lotion and sometimes, I use baking soda for a facial scrub when my Clean and Clear facial wash bottle has gone empty. My clothes are messily thrown on hangers, threatening to fall to the floor of the closet every time I look in their direction. I am, on the outside and definitely on the inside, thrown together.
 

So that’s the kind of beauty I understand. This is the kind of beauty I think most of my friends possess – they’re candid, their hair is hit or miss, it’s not common for them to wear smoky eyes during a class. Most of them can manage school shoes with heels, some of them like it flat. Plus, they’re my friends—I know what they think their problem areas are, I know what colors they think they don’t look good in, I know if wearing a 4-inch heel makes them homicidal. These questions are not for them.

These questions are for women who seems to have it all together. Girl… you had put on that layer of foundation so perfectly. How do you do that? Why do I always feel that I look so dull and how do I prevent it? Serious question.

To the girls who have long hair, how do you not grow split ends? I have a handful here. How could yours be so silky and straight and mine pointing out in all directions?

How come you have even skin tone? I know that in the Philippines, beauty always comes with fair skin. But I don’t want fair skin. I just want an even skin tone. I know we’re supposed to be careful out in the sun, but really, I looove the sun. I love the warmth in kissed on my skin.

Do your bra straps ever show? Doesn’t seem like it.

What is it like to walk in heels and not feel like you’re going to fall flat on your face?

That shirt doesn’t look like it has wrinkles—explain what I’m doing wrong.

How do you pull it all together? I bet your very own perfection already bore you. Does perfection bore you? Do you look at people like me and wish your hair would frizz a little, that your bra would peek out? Do you ever want to let your nail chip? Or is this, the coiffed hair, the ironed shirts; is this your version of happiness?

I have a good life. I will not pretend that having every hair in place would make it better, make me better. The most beautiful people I know are beautiful because of the things they say, the things they do, and the things they believe. They are Plain Janes and they’re all equally fascinating and warm.

I don’t want these questions answered so that I, too, can present a flawless face to the world. These are things I don’t understand, but want to. Because when I see another woman, I don’t want to look at her like a unicorn. She’s not a unicorn—she’s a person with feelings and goals and most importantly, issues. Like me. I want to look at her like my friend—one who hates heels as much as I do, one whose bra strap is showing because screw it, she doesn’t want her boobies to bounce here and there.

I take care of myself. I try to be something. I am improving, I believe. But not particularly in the area of applying foundation and wearing dresses. All I know is that I am loving myself the way I am, slightly fat, some curves on the wrong places, split ends, marks, scars, stretch marks, healthy, never admitted to the hospital since birth, aced major midterm examinations, has a blog and with girl friends surrounding her with affectations that she’s perfect no matter how shitty she looks in the end of her long, stressful day.