
I’m sick of magazines. I’m sick of thinspo blogs. I’m sick of “fitness inspiration” blogs. I’m sick of everything related to putting beauty on a pedestal. The practice makes beauty upheaved, glorified, idolized. Beauty isn’t a goddamn religion. Beauty isn’t something you strive to achieve by eating less, exercising more, or carving yourself a new body to hide in. There is no nirvana after reaching and clawing your way to being someone else.
Beauty is what happens when you take off the makeup, and look yourself in the eye without hiding. Beauty is what happens when you stop running and shedding pounds to escape the person you are. No amount of make-up, or sweat, or lost weight with make you lose the person you are. Beauty isn’t about being someone else.
And it’s damn well not about being perfect.
I’ll tell you what beauty is. Beauty is understanding, that out of the millions of sperm cells that died on their way to your creation, one of them lived. One of them had just enough chromosomes to fold and blossom into… you, a living being that breathes, cries, and feels passion by a mere brush of a cheek. And had it not been for that single cell swimming to its bitter end, reaching its destination, and kaleidoscope-ing into thousands, millions, billions of multi-purposed cells, you wouldn’t even be alive.
You alone are beauty. Your existence is proof that after millions of years of evolution, your features, your body, your exquisite composition naturally fell together because they seemed to help people get by the past other million years. You are the unique circumstance that will never happen again as long as this planet exists.
And if that isn’t beautiful, tragic, and singular enough an opportunity to stop worrying and start living, nothing ever will be.
- Nicholas Kristof (via dishabillic)
(via dishabillic)
- John Waters (via straight-and-fast)
(Source: hurricaneseasonnn, via twelfththirteen)