Written July 2022.

am I beautiful?

what a question!

I grew up in a whitewashed, fatphobic society, as we all did, but the difference between the two of us is that I tend to take things at face value. So if a bunch of people are calling me ugly and worthless, I can’t help but accept it, even if just a little. And we both know that a little is all it takes.

I grew up knowing that I was perceived as ugly, regardless of what I felt about myself. Because of this fact mixed with intense childhood bullying, it is IMPOSSIBLE for me to see myself objectively. And trust me – I have tried. I practice objectivity in every moment of every day for so many things. I take pride in my ability to detach myself and to see things for what they are, separate from my own emotional connection. My ability to accept the “why” of many things has kept me sober, kept me alive, and kept me here. You can imagine how crushing it is for me to not be able to step back and THINK! in regards to my own appearance.

Worse than being ugly or pretty or fat or skinny – my brain has been permanently altered by my abuse. Can you imagine? Me! Jesa! I cannot free myself from wanting something as insignificant and as fleeting as beauty. There isn’t a person or concept alive that can put me in my place! But if you call me ugly? GOD!!!!! Let me go into hiding and write furiously for days on end.

The only way I know how to approach uncomfortable things is to face them head on. I don’t know how to ease into anything because easing into things is for the weak and the afraid. And I’m strong, remember? So I’m trying to live my life as if I am truly ugly. Just to see if it kills me or not, you know? What is the worst thing that can happen if I become my worst fear? I guess we’ll find out!

I know in my heart that “beauty” is fleeting, insignificant, and a distraction from the work that must be done. I know that some people have been programmed to find common, plain, and average things attractive and don’t have the fortitude or the ability to question why difference makes them uncomfortable.

This should comfort me, no? I should be held by the fact that my entire existence is different than what most people have encountered. Who I am is not a skinny, carbon copy of a the same white woman on every magazine you’ve ever read. The things I’m saying are not the same empty, placating lies that people tell you day after day because they’re more afraid of loneliness than honesty. A lot of people are too afraid to step out of their box, so they will never have the privilege of meeting me, of knowing me, of seeing me. I don’t feel special anymore. Just lonely.

But now its time for some real ugliness!!!! ❤

(p.s. if you see any typos in this post, first of all, stop being a snitch!)