How Do I Learn to Love Myself When I Feel ~so~ Disgusting?

Every single day, I hear the same thing from a different woman. She is tough. She is brilliant. She is on the precipice of discovering herself and making a difference in the world. She is beautiful, fascinating and talented. Yet, she inevitably comes to me with one specific problem. The conversation usually goes something like this:

Her: I feel so disGUSting. Do you know how much I ate/drank/didn't sleep/didn't work out/worked/stressed/stared at my uneven eyebrows in the mirror this week?

Me: I don't know what you're talking about, you look good to me. 

Her: UGH NO. Do you have eyes? I look like total shiiiiittttt. Shut up.

Me: No you don't, you're totally perfect.

Her: please TELL ME WHY I ALWAYS FEEL SO UGLY AND GROSS !!!!

I have acne scars. I have stretch marks. I've lost/gained/lost a bunch of the extra weight I've carried since puberty, but I'm still a size 12. I have trouble fitting my legs into Zara jeans -  I swear they're made for tall, straight-bodied, lithe, Amazonian creatures. IS THIS WHAT WOMEN LOOK LIKE IN SPAIN? I NEED ANSWERS!

The entire right side of my face is bigger than the left side, I've considered wearing a half-mask like the Phantom of the Opera to disguise the deformity. I have keratosis pilaris on my arms. It flares up when I eat too many omega-6 industrial oils. But giving fries up entirely? Sure: you can pry them from my cold, dead hands. I have stubborn cellulite. Insert bad joke about orange peels or cottage cheese here, because I refuse to waste an ounce of my precious brain power thinking of ANOTHER creative way to slam myself. 

I’m hopeless at seeing in low light conditions. My immune system is attacking my ocular tissue; clusters of white blood cells are partying in my eyeballs leaving fuzzy blindspots in their wake. Some nights, I lay in bed fearing the worst: maybe I will wake up blind. Fearing the worst is SOOOOO much fun... I repeat... SO MUCH FUN.  You should try it! Please never try it. I get swollen, irritated patches on my eyelids - a symptom of my eye autoimmune jam. I try to calm the skin with oils and it flakes off onto my shirt like a light Christmas snowfall on the way to grandmother's house. Again: SO MUCH FUN.

Should I keep going? I can. That's just a condensed version of my shit list: a mental tally of physical defects I keep close whenever I'm looking for a reason to abuse myself  Sure, it's not always easy to manage these things, especially the eye stuff. Sometimes, when I'm getting ready to do whatever-I-do-outside-my-house, my eyelid starts peeling underneath my make up and I either have to take it off or risk leaving the house looking like I have a very seductive flesh-eating disease.  If my vision is particularly blurry, I refrain from operating a motor vehicle because I don't want to risk running over any small animals, or you know, children.  School zones, here I come!

 And yet. as frustrating as these things are, I'm thankful for all of them. Truly fucking grateful. Because I am alive. Because it could certainly be worse. Because these things keep me motivated to improve, to learn, to share, to teach, to help.

I am complete but I'm not finished. I'm a work in progress - we all are - and that’s all we'll ever be. We're never done and we never fully arrive.  The best thing we can do is trust in our innate goodness and put one foot in front of the other: choose to evolve, refuse to give up, and strive to learn acceptance, grace and a way to practice kindness and forgiveness towards ourselves. No matter how many mistakes we make or how long our personal shit lists are. 

Lately, my lifelong quest for perfection has taken an unexpected turn. I stopped feeling like I always need to have my shit together. Crazy,  right? I decided to try something insane: learning to like myself instead of spending hours considering all the similarities I share with my #1 homie Quasimodo. I tossed the EVIL magnifying mirror I kept on my vanity for nightly self-inspection. I vowed to curb the negative self-talk: if I wouldn't say it to my best friend, why would I serve this turd sandwich to myself? I dumped my scale. I quit policing every vegetable or protein or sugar molecule I eat. instead, I trusted myself to consume only what makes me happy. I donated the clothes I was saving to wear on the mythical day I finally feel great about my body to a group of amazing women who need them NOW. I did a digital detox, avoiding Instagram in particular, which is an addictive platform designed to indulge our inner gremlin's need to belittle our lives, compare ourselves and hunt for validation (but you should obviously follow me @laurenmarotta). I ditched the toxic make up I slathered on my face in an effort to hide whatever redness, bumps, scars or dry skin I had.  For years I've taken all the necessary steps to mask myself, believing rather ineptly that with one more coat of radiant creamy concealer or swipe of contour I could beautyblend myself into a perfect person. By counting every spear of asparagus I ate or dressing entirely in Gucci S/S 2018, I could prove myself worthy of love, attention and praise. I NEEDED to do these things, because how could I live a life focused on helping other women achieve health and happiness if I still carry extra poundage or struggle with breakouts and eczema!!!! How dare I still battle autoimmune disorders, anxiety, self-doubt and self-hatred!!! How dare I try to help others if I'm not the living, breathing personification of perfection!!!!!!!!! Aren’t I supposed to be the ideal vision of wellness, a glowing, 90-pound vegan model floating on a cloud of sprouted quinoa with a kale juice in one hand and a colonic hose stuffed with probiotics in the other? Maybe. But if that’s what you’re looking for, I’m not for you. 

There are countless professionals  in the health + wellness industry making bank by selling the very thing that healed or cured them; the one secret food, smoothie,  tea, juice, supplement or workout that fixed all their problems; the thing that made them perfect and can make you perfect, too. Many of these people are genuinely trying to help by bringing awareness to what they believe in. Respect to them. But I refuse to sell a one-size-fits-all solution to perfection,  because I don't think one exists. We all need different things to heal. Being well is a process that evolves as you evolve. Your body changes daily; you are not who you were last year, or last month, or even last week. Your cells are always dying, regenerating, and dying again. It's a miracle worth celebrating. 

A funny thing happened when I stopped examining myself so closely. I realized I actually liked the parts of my face and body I once thought I needed to cover up. I felt strong. I felt rebellious; it's audacious not to hide. To leave dark circles or scars or pimples or frizz or cellulite out in the open for the world to see. I was emboldened by my decision to leave myself unaltered, to just BE OKAY. Imagine how freeing it would be to stop fighting who you are and how you look? Who told us the natural things about our bodies are gross and shameful and need to be corrected anyway? They are part of being human. But we continue to believe we need to disguise ourselves in order to be validated, accepted and safe. If we leave the parts of ourselves that our culture has taught us to demonize fully exposed we become too vulnerable: sad, miserable trolls might tear us apart because we didn't try to hide them.. A woman that shuns the need to conform is criticized because her refusal to play by the rules frightens those hellbent on maintaining the status quo. She's too wild. She's too unusual and threatening to their sense of the world and how things are designed to be. So, they tear her down. 

Nina Simone said, "Do you know what freedom is to me? No fear." 

Imagine a life spent not fearing yourself; not holding back because you don't think you're perfect or good enough. How much could you achieve if 95% of your brain power wasn't spent trying to hide or protect yourself from judgment or attack?

What does a life without self-doubt look like to you?

I made a list of things I had always been interested in trying, but held myself back from because I thought I’d look STOOPID. I resolved to do them. One of the things I wanted to cross off my list was pilates. I walked into a class, and for the first time in my life,  I entered a new environment without judging myself.  Every person in the room was beautiful, no matter what their shape or skin type. They were amazing just for showing up, busting ass in their own skin. Breathing deeply. Being alive.  I'm willing to bet almost every woman in the studio thought something terrible about herself that day.  Because the sad truth is: most women hate themselves. They learned to do this by observing their mothers, who learned by observing THEIR mothers. They learned by reading magazines, watching commercials, and enduring years of film and television programs shoving a singular idea of how a woman should be, act and look down their throats. They learned by listening to every media source consistently reinforce the ludicrous idea that a woman's body is an acceptable subject for public scrutiny or conversation. It's all designed to keep women distracted and controlled - small, afraid and running to the nearest store to buy more shit we don't need to improve ourselves instead of rising up to claim our equal place in the world. It's a societal cancer we must cure. It's an absurd cycle we must break. 

And that's the key to understanding this self-love and acceptance thing: we don’t NEED to be for everyone, especially if it means sacrificing who we ACTUALLY are; if it means beating ourselves into submission to fit into an ideal of how we were told we should act or who we should be. I won't should all over myself and I don't want you to, either.  It's too much work.  You will never please everyone - it's impossible - and it doesn't matter anyway. Because here's the real secret: you are worthy of love and acceptance no matter what you do and the people who love you are going to love you no matter how many flaws you think you have. No matter how much money you spend on facials, lip gloss, gym classes and Louboutins. 

If I could change one thing about this world, I would ensure all women felt empowered to achieve their dreams, to be themselves, to blaze their own trails without letting society’s definition of what or who they need to be hold them back. Make them feel ugly or wrong. Diminish them. Distract them by allowing the voice of their ambition or truth  be drowned out by the voice of their doubt or a legitimate fear for their own safety. Mute them by claiming their stories are irrelevant, stupid, navel-gazing, or worst of all, untrue. 

At your core, underneath what you perceive to be your ridiculous number of defects, you are beautiful and healed and perfect just as you are. You are valuable and  worthy just because you're alive. You don't need to earn your place, you just have to step up + claim it. Your armpits always smell like roses and the sun beams blindingly from your every facial pore. It's that simple. This is the absolute truth that you need to believe in order to live a happy, healthy life. 

It may be trite, but the things you dislike about yourself are beautiful. They are critical to your story. And if someone in your life doesn’t love every part of you, let them go. You'll find people who will.  First, you have to learn to accept yourself. Right now, in this moment. All the weird parts, too. Even the things you want to change. Be willing to believe you are good enough. You won't love yourself every minute of every day. But start now. Build an iron fence around yourself so you're impervious to public scrutiny + cruelty. Because, as my precious grandfather says, BELIEVE YOU ME, KID: everything you've ever wanted is waiting for you on the other side of your self-loathing. There is no happiness, no healing, no evolution, no grace, no equality, no reform, no abundance, no success, no creativity, no peace, no intimacy, and no love without self-love. It is the most critical lesson we must learn in order to survive and thrive. If we doubt our own worthiness, we lose the game before we even start playing.

I frequently tell girls this and they roll their eyes at me. Love myself?!!? How can I accept myself when there are so many things wrong with me? I'll love myself when I fix _____, when I achieve _____, when I finally have ______. Or, they make the WORST EXCUSE I'VE EVER HEARD: but loving yourself is so vain. Shouldn't I try to improve?

I'm not talking about false confidence or an insecure, egotistical kind of self-love.  I'm talking about a deep respect, admiration, and appreciation for the insanely incredible vessel you are. In all of time, there  will NEVER BE ANOTHER YOU. Stop and let that sink in before you let a perv Tinder match. a creep on Twitter or a thigh dimple drag you down.  If you're having trouble accepting yourself for you, do it for the millions of vulnerable women that are ill, starving, marginalized, attacked or struggling and would give anything to live a life where hating their perceived imperfections was the biggest problem they faced. Support the women around you regardless of their race, sexuality or beliefs. Listen to them and validate them. Do it for your future daughter, who will learn how to treat herself not by listening to what you tell her, but by watching the way you treat yourself. Do it so you can wake up every morning ready to fight for a better future; for equality; for justice; for your fellow woman; for your own right to happiness.  Or, if you’re anything like me, you can love yourself because it's a big middle finger up to convention. In a society that glorifies impossible beauty standards and condemns imperfection or irregularity of any kind, loving yourself as you are is a radical act.  Every old structure we need to tear down in order to level up relies on our self-doubt and fear of not being enough to keep us quiet and small. Our culture profits off of our self-doubt - it drills the notion that we must be rising + grinding to fit quietly and neatly into acceptable-sized, pretty, hair-free boxes into our psyches. We must spend our money to appear strobed + cut + perfectly tousled. We must remain controlled by the fear of not being enough.  Only then can we be loved, right?

UM, NO. You know we've taken a turn straight down to the fiery depths of hell when anal bleaching is an actual thing women feel the need to do.

There's nothing wrong with self-improvement. Practicing self-care is the basis of self-love: treating your body with the praise and respect it deserves involves eating well, movement, sleep, boundaries, and doing things that make you feel strong and happy. It's important to take control of your health and to make positive changes, especially when you're unwell. But self-improvement that is driven by self-hatred is a plague that infects us all.  In the words of Danielle LaPorte: "You are not a problem to be fixed. You're a fucking miracle." Repeat that often to yourself.  Understand that you're not just a body. You don't simply exist on the surface. You have so much light, depth and potential within. Sit in silence. Get to know your inner self and your appearance will gradually matter much less.  And then, eventually, your need for validation and your instinct to compare yourself to others will fade away completely. You'll finally learn to be at peace with who you are.

So, please: uncross your legs. Take up the space you've denied yourself. Use the armrest instead of folding your arms quietly in your lap. Put your own oxygen mask on first, instead of harming yourself by trying to appease or please other people. Treat yourself gently. Celebrate being alive. Laugh until you snort. Have a bigger piece of cake. Speak to yourself as you would someone you love. Ignore what people say you should do. Maybe they'll call you loud, bossy, angry, weird, ugly, difficult or a bitch for loving yourself + standing up for what you believe in: forget them. Let them watch in envy as you divorce yourself from limiting beliefs and expectations, as you release yourself from the chains of self-doubt. Let go of anything that's holding you back or keeping you down, preventing you from speaking your truth or living the way you yearn to. Quit apologizing. If it makes you feel strong, do it. If it's slowing you down, burn it. Embrace your inner strength. Unburden yourself by sliding off your heels. leaving your purse at home, grabbing your freedom and sprinting forward. 

Leave every ounce of fear behind while you run.

Have a question? Email hi@laurenmarotta.com with the subject line #ASKLAUREN. I'll be answering a new question every other Monday.