There is a great video from Dove. It shows the process of airbrushing and "photo-editing" advertisements for billboards. I can't figure out how to embed it, so I'll just post the link here--watch it. Seriously. Click the link. NOW.
Ok now that you're back from watching that fabulous video, I can continue.
I could talk about fake pictures and fake people for the entire post, but I won't. Instead I think I'll talk about me. We all have body image issues. We all look in the mirror and see things no one else would ever notice.
Take me for example. This is me at age 20 (I looked exactly the same when I was 16--seriously, ask my friends):
This photo was taken on my honeymoon. I weighed the exact same weight the day I got married at age 20 as I did at age 16. I weighed a whopping 95 pounds. Yes, really. I ate all the time. I tried to gain weight. I just never did. Everyone else looked at me and saw a beautiful, thin girl. I saw a stick with no boobs, frizzy hair, and glasses.
Let me repeat that: I saw a stick with no boobs, frizzy hair, and glasses.
Maybe you're skinny like I was and you look in the mirror and wish for a magic wand that will make your boobs two cup sizes bigger. Maybe you're chubby and you wish you were skinny like girls like me--and you don't realize girls like me are staring at your boobs with jealousy wishing we had them.
You also probably don't realize that there is a boy or a girl in your school--the one who smiles at you every day in the hallway--who thinks your smile is the prettiest smile in the world.
You don't realize that even the "pretty girls" or the "hot boys" look in the mirror and see things they wish were different.
You don't realize that your best friends think you are gorgeous, are jealous of the way your laugh sounds, and do not care if you have a pimple the size of Mt. Saint Helens on your nose.
You don't know that one day you will meet someone who doesn't care if you have the flu and look like this:
Yes, that's me. Today. I have the flu. I have bags under my eyes, no make up on, and wet hair (I just got out of a hot shower). My husband thinks I'm beautiful anyway.
If you look closely you'll notice that one eye is slightly bigger than the other. I had surgery on my right eye when I was twelve years old and I can see that it looks just a little bit different than the left one. No one else seems to notice.
I have the fair skin of the Irish and as a result I have freckles on my nose. My nose also has a bump in the middle from a fist fight I got into with a boy twice my size. I was ten. He said something nasty about my brother. I clobbered him. We bloodied each other's noses (and he also walked away with a black eye). I have the bump to prove it.
I could never afford braces so I have a snaggle tooth. I used to practice smiling with my mouth closed so other people wouldn't notice.
Then I met a boy the first day of high school and he told me he loved my smile. His name was Eric. Now I always smile with my teeth showing. He was right--my smile is beautiful just the way it is. Now I can afford braces and I don't want them.
My face tells the story of my life. I embrace it. It's who I am. It's the first thing others see when they look at me, and they might not know the story behind every wrinkle, every bump, every scar--but I do.
My face is a map of my memories. Eric is gone now, but I see him every time I smile.
