I’m Not Accepting My Flaws, They’re Just A Part Of Me

Ruthie Martin
Ruthie Martin

From the premature acne to the poor sense of style and to my flat nose, I’ve realized at a young age that I wasn’t pretty.

I was reminded of it when my aunts would make fun of me for being too ugly to have a boyfriend. I was reminded when all of my friends had guys falling for them and I was watching on the sidelines. I was reminded when I was always considered as ‘one of the guys.’

And no, I don’t think men’s attraction to me defines how pretty I am, but it didn’t help. I’m still reminded of it when my mother tells me that I act too much like a man for a man to ever want me. I’m reminded of it when I would rather have melted makeup on my face than no makeup at all. I’m reminded of it when I look in the mirror and I still have a flat nose.

I didn’t look in a mirror all throughout my middle school years because I knew I would be disappointed of the face looking back at me. I always wanted my hair to cover my face (which didn’t help the acne, by the way). I’m not sure when I really accepted it, but I’m guessing it was sometime late high school years.

So all throughout my childhood I had to find out ways to even the playing field a little bit. I wanted to be better in other ways where my looks failed. I guess that was a somewhat better way to suppress my insecurities. I tried really hard to be funny. I tried really hard to be smart. I also tried really hard to be talented. When it came down to it, I realized that I’m exceptionally good at being ordinary.

I think it was about two years ago when I stopped trying. I didn’t have enough effort to be someone who tried too hard. I was playing this game by myself and I was losing every single time. I don’t even mean this as a deprecating post because I worked through all of the failed attempts in order to be enough.

I’m not going to lie and say these things don’t still ring true to me. I’m not going to say that I have blossomed into someone who accepts their flaws. No. My flaws are right in front of me especially now that I’m posting this on a public forum.

Confidence is a weird thing to me. I definitely have confidence and can display it very well, but in the back of my head, I replay all those jabs from people I care about or all those times friends preferred to not hang out with me or the other times when guys didn’t bother giving me their attention. The difference with me now than 10 year old me is that I am using my flaws as an asset.

Sure, I probably use comedic jabs at myself to ease the sting, but I’ve also noticed that my vulnerability is what makes my flaws and my confidence work together. Sometimes I let the 10,000 walls down and actually tell people how I feel. And when those walls come down, I can feel myself coming together again.

The walls weren’t built to only keep people out, but it was to keep my confident self and my insecure self completely separate. I guess what I’m trying to say in my rambling is that the flaws are what made me human.

I knew how far I could push myself. I didn’t accept my flaws; they were just me. Honestly, I’ve never felt more put together even though my life has never been more so in shambles. I’ve never felt funnier (I replay my snapchat stories constantly), more confident, smarter, or even more talented. I became what I tried so hard to be. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

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