I came across a video today on Facebook that focuses on Selfies. What is Selfie/s?
According to Wikipedia, “A selfie is a type of self-portrait photograph, typically taken with a hand-held digital camera or camera phone. Selfies are often associated with social networking.”
I believe that we all have taken a selfie at least once, regardless of whether it has ever been shared on the social media or not, and we all have little tricks on how to make your selfies look good. It could be turning your face away from the light, or tilting it this way or that way, it could be going slightly off-centre so you won’t look so full, etc. I know I have some tricks of my own too, but most times I don’t really care. I’ve even taken selfies on a bad-skin day, pimples, eyebags and all. Seriously, who cares? My flaws makes me human. Overly confident? No, simply comfortable. I’m comfortable in my own skin and my flaws. Of course, there are moments of insecurities but it happens to all of us.
But I wasn’t always this confident/comfortable with myself. When I was in high school, I wasn’t the prettiest in my group of friends, and I was the most different. It doesn’t seem that bad when we’re in school because we have uniforms but when the weekend comes, I stood out the most. It was the era of baby-everything; baby-doll dresses, baby-tees, Baby-G. It was cutesy this and cutesy that, baby-pinks and blues and everything that I was not. I can still remember our very first outing to town one weekend. We decided to meet outside the school because that was the most centralized place among all of us. I wore my favorite baggy jeans, a pair of chunky Airwalk and a beige Quiksilver t-shirt that was 2 sizes too big, and I swear I could have died when I saw what the other girls were wearing. For one thing, none of them were wearing jeans. NONE. I suppose they were kind enough not to laugh at me….to my face. And I wasn’t wearing any makeup, obviously, not even a lipbalm. I don’t think I even combed my hair that day (I had short hair back then, hardly needs any combing). After that day, my friends took in upon them to ‘save’ me. They shoved fashion magazines to my face, the Dos and Don’ts (The top Don’t being, “Don’t dress like a boy.”), they made me try outfits every time we go to the malls, they’re always trying to give me a makeover. It came to the point where I dreaded going out with them on weekends. And it’s not like I didn’t try to fit in. I tried on baby-tees, I put on makeup, etc. But I wasn’t giving up on my baggy jeans and sneakers. Guess that wasn’t good enough for them, because they started focusing on my likes and dislikes after that (“Thou must never love things that the male species love.”) I seriously don’t get it so by the time I was 16, I decided…
I break away from the group and wore whatever hell I like. I accepted the fact that I wasn’t petite and cute like Ana, or tall and slim like Farhana, or strong and sexy like Dilla, I’m not pretty and feminine like Noraini and I’m definitely not worldly like Ida. But I’m glad that I’m not like them. I’m glad that I’m different but that makes me unique. I would rather be a rarity than something that everyone sees everywhere. And just as how I learn to accept myself for how I am, I started accepting other people as how they are. Tall, short, big, small, tan, fair, dark, pale, whatever. Beautiful in their own way.