“Am I Too Ugly to Be Loved?”

Here’s your answer.

Photo by Jakob Owens on Unsplash

Would you ever love someone who looked like you?

Someone with stretch marks on their thighs and a weird mole on the back of their neck? Someone with a crooked nose or very thin lips?

Sometimes I look in the mirror and stare at the blackheads on my nose, and I think, “Who could ever love someone with a strawberry for a nose?”

How would you look at a woman who lacked a thigh gap? Would you look away in disgust? Would pinch that skin and tell her to get rid of it? Tell her that women are supposed to be thin?

How would you look at a man whose stomach was soft and arms were thin as branches? Would you lift his shirt and tell him it was time to get into shape? Look at him as if he weren’t a real man?

No? Then why do you speak to yourself that way?

Would you ever love someone who looked like you?

Someone with a gap in their teeth, or A-cup breasts, or a bulging belly. Someone whose arms jiggled or who had so many acne scars on their back you could find constellations.

Would you ever look at someone’s uneven eyes, or too-big nose, or freckled face and think, “No one will ever fall in love with you.”

Look around and you’ll find that no one is physically perfect.

Even the girl with the sharp jawline and pretty eyes has yellow teeth she’s embarrassed about.

Even the man with the six-pack looks at the scar on his leg and thinks he looks like Frankenstein.

We know no one is perfect, so why do we expect that of ourselves?

We look at our friends, our parents, our siblings, and we know all about the hair on their upper lip or their big foreheads, and we don’t think anything of it. Yet we see those same features in ourselves, and suddenly they’re ugly. Monstrous. Unlovable.

“Who could ever love someone with a strawberry for a nose?” I asked.

But then I realized: I would. If I met a girl so wonderful she made my heart pound, if she got close to my face that I could see the imperfections, if I could see the blackheads on her nose, I wouldn’t think anything of it. Who cares that she’s got acne when she makes me laugh and has a beautiful smile?

The only ones obsessed with our flaws are ourselves. We notice everything — from the baby hairs sticking up and the pimple on our forehead — so we pick it apart. But everyone else?

They’re too worried about their own flaws to notice someone else’s.

Would you ever love someone who looked like you?

Someone with imperfections?

If your answer is yes, there’s no reason why someone wouldn’t love you either.

I am not imperfect. We are imperfect.

Why are we worried about our flaws when we’re all riddled with them? Why believe no one will love you — a human with blemishes on their skin — when you would love someone with blemishes on their skin.

So your ears are too big, your arms too long, and you’ve got a dark birthmark across your cheek. We call them flaws, but what does a perfect human look like anyway? No one knows. We could try to design one but everyone would have different opinions.

So if no one can point to perfection, what does it mean to be ugly? Because if being ugly means someone with lots of flaws, then we’re all pretty fucking ugly.

But I don’t think we are. I think we’re all friggin’ gorgeous. It’s just that we’re all gorgeous in different ways.

We look at our flaws and wonder if they make us unlovable. Wonder if they’d leave if they got to close and saw it all. But no matter how or what you look like, you’re beautiful enough to be loved. By others and by yourself.

You can wish to change certain parts of yourself — hell, you actually can change some of them — but you’ll only find more flaws.

So I leave you with this: if you’re never going to truly love how you look, then you might as well just love how you look.

A self-help writer trying to be as honest as possible and hoping to make people feel less alone along the way.

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