Things I understood better when I was eight
I love the responses to the last post! Thank you to everyone who wrote to tell me how sexy and beautiful you feel, not just despite, but because of your years. Sometimes I feel like I’m yelling out into the dark, and all these voices are calling back.
Me: “But my ankles are too thick!”
“Shut up! That’s not what life is about!”
Me: “But I’m scared of everything!”
“It’ll get better, don’t worry so much!”
Me: “Why do I never know when the chicken is done?”
“Get a chicken thermometer!”
Anyway, a few days later, I’m still thinking about aging.
I used to think that getting older meant getting more beautiful. That was when I was about eight. I used to not worry about what I’d be when I grew up. I was sure I’d figure it out then. And I was sure it’d be amazing. There was a good chance that I was going to be an astronaut. A very, very beautiful astronaut.
(image source here)
We stayed with my parents over Fourth of July weekend, and I was looking through some of my old stuff. I found a sketch I’d made when I was ten or so. I’d written, “Me at twenty,” under it. The hair was very long and straight. The face was nothing like mine. But I could tell that it was my best attempt at the time to depict how beautiful I’d be. And how much I’d have changed by then.
As a kid, I was sure I would only get more beautiful as I got older, because beauty was just like anything else. I was going to get better at life, obviously, from living longer, and just as my vocabulary and my pog slamming skills and my knowledge of American history would improve, so would my appearance.
I didn’t understand that life isn’t always so linear. I mean, my handwriting has only gotten worse. It probably peaked at 14. And I can’t remember very much from all the history I learned. And somewhere along the line, I internalized the critical lesson that beauty is objective and unrelated to the rest of who you are.
I did get better at a lot of things as I got older, handwriting not included. I’m much better at calling people. That used to be really scary for me. (I still ask my fiancé to order take out. But I could do it if I had to. Really.) I’m better at painting noses. Noses eluded me for a long time. My singing voice has improved a lot, and I’m smarter in general. But that doesn’t mean my younger self doesn’t have anything to teach me. She’s the one who had figured out beauty. She knew her own potential.
I looked at some photos of myself from back then, and the truth is, objectively, I didn’t look all that stunning. I was an average sized girl with snarled brown hair, roundish hazel eyes, a bulky nose, and a lopsided smile. I had a prettiness that was recognizable, but different enough from the standard to border on difficult. If a model scout ever saw me in the mall, he would’ve walked right by me. But if I had known about him, I would’ve walked right by him without a second thought, too. I didn’t for a moment want to be a model.
For me, then, I was beautiful because I was me. And other beauty wasn’t threatening, because I believed that the concept of beauty had enough room for all of us. I loved that I looked different. I WAS different, so it fit. And I was only going to get more beautiful as I went.
Well, maybe I have. But I’ve forgotten how to identify it. Maybe the terms got mixed up, not the reality.
In her comment on the last post, Emily mentioned that a lot of research shows that people report being happier the older they get. That seems like that should be right. I mean, you eventually mess up enough to figure things out. You must start to learn how to deal with yourself better. And hopefully you start to prioritize the right things. Like feeling fulfilled. Having a good day. Making people laugh, and laughing a lot yourself. Being around people you love. Working on projects that excite you. Chocolate cake. Free time. Helping other people. Peanut butter milkshakes. Those earring trees that you can hang your earrings on so they don’t keep falling behind the dresser and getting tangled together.
And if you figure all that out, then you either stop caring so much about objective beauty, or you realize that the look that you have, the one that’s completely unique to you, is a part of everything else you are. And just as you learn to appreciate other things, you learn to appreciate that. Or maybe, for once, you actually believe whoever is telling you, “You’re completely gorgeous.” They mean it. They aren’t lying.
I don’t have straight hair now. I don’t really look all that different. I didn’t transform into a Nordic maiden. Still about as Jewy as it gets. I’m not an astronaut. I didn’t even make it to space camp. But I did get better at being myself in a lot of ways. And I look forward to learning more about how beautiful I am.
(click here for image source)
* * * *
What did you think you’d be when you grew up? (Or what do you currently think you’ll be when you grow up?)
Un-Roast: Today I love how my face continues to challenge me with its complicated beauty. Sometimes I get exasperated at it and I’m like, “Face. Listen. Can you for once just look normal?” But it doesn’t believe in being normal. It’s thinking of starting some sort of alternative rock band. I don’t even know…
Your un-roasts from last time:
Kristen: I’ve never unroasted but I’ve been thinking about it: I love my shoulders. I used to think they were too broad, as if they were made for a football player. They are in fact made for playing football, ask the men in my lifeline. They are also made for supporting gorgeous, feminine curves that plenty of women pay lots of money to superimpose on their less curved forms. I will never, ever be able to go braless, and I’m totally envious of women who can, btw. I haven’t always loved my curves either, but now, I like my natural curves and I love my shoulders for carrying them proudly. My yoga practice has transformed these shoulders into art. I love them!
Thanks for sharing this!! Your shoulders sound amazing.
Diane: I have more than a few gray hairs at 30, but they don’t bother me. That is my un-roast for the day: My gray hairs create a lovely streak that frames my face and looks like a natural highlight. I decided a while ago not to let it bother me. I want my (future) children to see me as an example of someone who ages gracefully and unafraid.
Anna: today I really like my hair. I like how it looks in 2 braids with a rolled bandana headband, which is my go-to work hairdo (note: I work on a farm). I think it looks playful and I feel cute in it.
Rochelle: i make the best pies – including pie crust, which takes some maturity and experience -, even better than the local apple ranch and i’m proud of it! AND I’m not afraid to eat and enjoy every crumb of my pie!
I want some!! I’d love to learn how to bake an incredible pie. My absolutely favorite is strawberry rhubarb…
* * * *
Sign up for email alerts, everyone! Tell your grandmothers and neighbors and dentists about Eat the Damn Cake! But tell your dentists that I floss regularly, too.
Kate on July 6th 2010 in beauty, being different
elizabeth responded on 06 Jul 2010 at 11:26 am #
I just had to send some admiration your way for this blog! sometimes I pop in (from twitter!) read & smile, without leaving a comment. One of the things I’m consciously trying to do as I get older is go back to the carefree little girl I was before I hit my pre-teens, and became convinced that I wasn’t good enough, pretty enough or talented enough. Every day I ask myself if that little girl who was endlessly amused by the things that interested her, and who had no awareness of what other people thought, would be happy with the much older girl she now is.
Wei-Wei responded on 06 Jul 2010 at 11:58 am #
I don’t know what I’ll be when I grow up. I’m tempted to say that my dream job is doing something in the food industry, but that requires talent, expensive training and I don’t know if my love for food is influenced by my ED or not. I used to want to become a therapist, or study psychology. I also used to want to become a graphic designer.
I don’t know what I want to be. I honestly cannot imagine myself beyond 18 years old. I mean, I don’t know what I’ll be when I go to college. I don’t even know if I’ll be here. I’m sorry if that seems like such a downer, but ever since I was little I just didn’t know what I wanted to do. My future plans just stop at the end of high school. Has that ever happened to anyone else? I can’t imagine myself married, in a relationship, as a mother, in college, at work, anything adult-like.
Maybe it’s the Peter Pan Syndrome.
Today, I love my eyebrows. Me and my sister went to sneakily do a facial+back massage at “trial price”, and I got my eyebrows done. They used to be rather nasty and wild before, but now they’re nicely shaped. I think a lot of my unroasts have to do with grooming, but grooming makes me feel pretty
Wei-Wei
Justine responded on 06 Jul 2010 at 12:10 pm #
Thank you, thank you Kate for your pog reference, I loved pogs so much as a kid, if only I could get back to that place where I thought more about my pogs and slammers than about my body I would be WAY happier!
I’m going to respond to your question and un-roast at the same time, I’m multitasking!
Un-roast: I think I’m lucky that I’ve known since I was a very small child that I was going to be an artist of some kind. Even though I strayed from the path a little when I thought I might want to be an actress or something, I always knew exactly what I wanted—to make art. It feels good to know how securely I still know what I want and how much I love it, and I think I’m pretty good at it too. If my 8-year-old self saw the work that I’m doing now I think she would be super impressed, she might be a little disappointed that I gave away my pod collection though!
Cindy responded on 06 Jul 2010 at 12:15 pm #
during my entire childhood I always wanted to be just like someone else…Dorothy Hamill, my Mom, My much older cousin, who was in high school at the time I thought this.
Anything than that gangly, mop haired kid I was.
I spent my entire 20′s chasing that …and my 30′s lamenting my 20′s being over and never once did it occur to me, that I LIKED who I am and that person is good enough on her own.
that is freedom! that is happiness. and I do think it comes with age. Unless, of course we are lucky enough to figure all that out magically at age 8.
I wanted to be an astronaut too. still do. Or at least an officer on Star Trek!
xoxox
Un-roast. Yesterday, I turned a tube top sweater I knitted into a skirt and it rocked! Made my day!
anne responded on 06 Jul 2010 at 5:29 pm #
I love reading your blog. This post really makes me smile! Thanks for the positivity.
Carly responded on 06 Jul 2010 at 5:59 pm #
great post as always, kate
never unroasted before, but: today i love my eyebrows. they seem a little darker than they should be and they make my eyes look mysterious
Anna responded on 06 Jul 2010 at 6:36 pm #
Oh man, I was planning on being an artist and figure skater when I was a wee child. Irregardless of the fact that I had minimal talent in either discipline. Now… I have no idea what I want to do. all I know if that I will do anything to avoid an office job.
Un-roast- my farmer’s tan. Yep. that tanline that stops mid-bicep and mid-thigh. Why do I like it? Because it’s a reflection of my love of the outdoors. I run, I hike, I walk, I bike, I farm. Pale shoulders and upper thighs be damned.
zoe responded on 06 Jul 2010 at 6:56 pm #
again, lovely post kate!
as a child i wanted to be a million different things. i still do. i am on the verge of 21 so i really do not consider myself a “grown up” yet. but in all honesty, i doubt i will feel “grown up” when i turn 40 either.
my insecurities still exist but each year they exist in different ways. one year i’m not smart enough. the next not beautiful enough. another year i’m not likeable enough. and so on and so on. i’ve had enough of the enoughs, though. i don’t want to spend my 20′s bemoaning the person i am not. i want to love who and what i am. working on it…
unroast: i like the way my legs look in my shorts today: strong! and i realized the other day my thighs don’t chaffe together anymore like they used to and the “jiggle” comes from pure muscle as oppose to “fat”. i got me some toned legs!
Kristen responded on 06 Jul 2010 at 11:46 pm #
For the longest time I wanted to be a prima ballerina in the New York City Ballet. However, many many MANY years of rigorous ballet training later (aka my senior year of high school), I knew that it being a ballet dancer was a rough life, and required an ungodly amount of talent that most ballet dancers (including me) do not possess. I also knew in my heart that the constant ctricisim and politics of the ballet world would kill me.
Now, after finishing my freshman year of college, I am really starting to envision myself going on to grad. school to get my Ph.d in English Lit. and teach at a university. I always feel “at home” in an academic environment, and I love the higher and deeper level of thinking college requires. I also really want to write a book – I don’t know what it would be about, but I know that I have something to say.
Un-roast: Today I love my legs. They are very muscular and defined for a woman, and they make me feel strong and powerful. Sometimes they can even make me feel sexy
Gaby responded on 07 Jul 2010 at 9:34 am #
Hey Kate! I’ve got some major reading to catch up on! Traveling is taking precedence over my internet dependence right now but I had to share that I’ve passed on the Sunshine award to you because I love your blog so much! You can check out the details on my post.
I can unroast today! I love the way I look in sparkly green eyeshadow. I hardly ever wear make up, especially not in bright colors. But I went into the mac store the other day and put on a bunch of samples and went a little crazy with their colors and it actually looked good! I immediately felt self conscious once I walked out, but I think it probably made me look fun, bright and happy!
Christine responded on 09 Jul 2010 at 5:08 am #
When I was young I believed that I would be a grown up at 24. I would look a lot like Miss America, I’d be tall and blonde, statuesque. I would definitely look like my age which I never did growing up. I turned 24 and I was shocked that it didn’t happen. I still got carded, I received shocked looks from the high schoolers that I drove on the school bus(they thought I was one of them!) and looked, well the same!
I remember speaking with my mother about growing up and getting old. She said she still felt like she was 16 inside and she was 75. And now I know what she means. Christine, the ever present, real, me, is in there. I am almost 58 now, gray, still 5’4″, and I feel like I am 16 in many ways. Just with a greater appreciation of all that is wonderful in the world, more worries about aches and pains than what I look like from minute to minute and an unstoppable hope that all will be well. I embrace all the un-roastable and the good stuff too! Keep at it Kate, you’ll get there, just wait!
Shyra responded on 11 Jul 2010 at 12:11 pm #
When I grow up I’m going to be a mortgage underwriter or a credit analyst. I’m going to wear pants and heels 5 days a week and a dress and heels the other 2 days. I’m going to put in my contacts everyday. I will take vacations and snorkel with stingrays. I’ll call my mom bc I want to, not because I have to. I’ll visit my Nana regularly and I will exercise, not to look good, but for my health. When I grow up I will be awesome. I’m hoping I grow up tomorrow.
meerkat responded on 17 Jul 2010 at 9:47 am #
I was going to be a Nobel prize winning physicist with a Ph.D. who also published scifi novels. Instead I became a loser.