This is an old blog post of mines, I'm posting on this site, just to sort of introduce myself. Hope you all enjoy!

I kinda understand now how people can get caught up in media's stereotypes and misconstructions of beauty and identity. Even though I for one reject those stereotypes, I guess its something that you see so often it sticks in the back of your head.

I was at a photo shoot (Jan. 07) and let's just say it was an interesting experience. It was my first time working with a make-up artist. There were two other girls there, I was the only one with natural hair.

While I was getting my make-up done, towards the end, one of the girls says (paraphrase) "not that you weren't pretty before, but you look really pretty, almost like a new completely different person". In essence, that is how I felt. Don't get me wrong, the make-up looked good and I don't take her comment (compliment) as an insult, but I was a little take aback by it.

I regularly don't wear make-up. The last time I'd actually been made-up is probably my prom...which was years ago. Even then, I remember telling the make-up artist "not too much…make it look as natural as possible." That is the purpose of make up after all isn't it? To highlight your natural beauty? The end result was I felt a little lost underneath it all. That it took that much just to make me pretty. That me alone just wasn't gonna cut it. I understand the purpose of the make-up and all, and the importance of it in the modeling industry, and by no means am I knocking it. I'm just questioning it and the effects thereof. How something so simple can make such a big difference. How each human flaw, as beautiful as it may be, can be wiped away with a few strokes of a brush. The very thing that makes you "you" can be lost, masked, or simply just questioned. What was supposed to make me feel beautiful actually brought out all of my insecurities.

My scars. Do I have too many? Will they show up in the photo? My hair. It's in the loc'ing process. It's not freshly done. Will it be ok for the photo shoot?My birthmark. It really is big and unsightly. Will they have to photoshop it out the pictures? Should I try to hide it? My love handles. (I know yall thinking what love handles…but I'm telling you they're there.)My veins. They protrude. Is that gonna present a problem? My pores are too big. My skintone is uneven. My bone structure…

The tiny little things, I just felt really uneasy about. I mean, I've had my bouts with fleeting feelings of insecurity, but I don't think its ever been that serious, or all hit me at once like that. At this moment, I just felt really small. Like I alone wasn't good enough.

The second half of the photoshoot took place at a club in DC. The guy at the door was very friendly and hospitable to us. There was buffet and so we went over to get something to eat (we hadn't eaten all day b/c we were at the shoot ALL DAY). Well the guy, meaning no harm, jokingly commented about how he was glad that we were eating because we were skinny and he liked his women with "meat on her bones." Again, I felt some type of way about that (anyone who knows me may know that I can be sensitive about my weight, b/c I've had some internal struggles with that). I've never had an eating disorder, and I eat to my hearts content. I don't count calories, nor do I necessarily opt for fat free food selections. I just, for whatever reason, happen to have a fast metabolism. I weigh about 120lbs, and I have for some time now. Just simply because we were there as "models" I was automatically labeled as a bulimic airhead. Maybe I'm just too sensitive, but I was taken aback by his comment. Not that I was offended, but it just made me think about certain things and the way Americans are as a culture and how they view things.

The last mishap of the night occurred as we were about to leave. I had my jacket in my hand and I was going towards the door. My intentions were to put on my jacket as I was waiting for one of the other girls who went upstairs to get something, and the stairs were right by the door. The temperature outside was typical of a January night, it was freezing, and having thus far survived 20 winters, I was well aware that it was cold outside. Somehow, that must have not been evident to him, or maybe he was just trying to be helpful, but the same guy comments (paraphrase) "I know you're beautiful but you better put on your jacket before you leave b/c its cold outside." I'M 21 YEARS OLD. Maybe it's just me again I say, but in my head I'm thinking "thanks but I don't need you to tell me that." I was well aware of the weather. I am convinced it was his notion of my being an "air headed" model that made him feel the need to tell me that. Though this time I was slightly irritated, maybe b/c this was his second stray comment, but I just responded with a smile and an "oh, I know, I ain't that crazy" sounding as nice as I could. Like I said, he was very friendly and I know that he meant no harm in any of the things he said. It was just me being analytical and thinking I knew what he was really thinking, my insecurities, and my sensitivity that made me a little irritable.

But what came from all of this?

A poem (or at least the beginning of one):

I felt lost under each layer

Each brush stroke equaled a lie, until I

Couldn't tell if that was really my reflection

staring back at me

And my insecurities began to surface.

My thoughts swimming with the possibilities

of not measuring up

my flaws

were magnified

times a million

thoughts kept wandering

and I was lost

couldn't find myself

couldn't be myself

it was make believe

I was make believe

A mystical character they'd created

The very portrait of beauty that for so long

I've rejected

Or I tried to reject it

But in the back of my mind,

It was still there

The insecurities of not meeting that standard

Although it had been tucked away

And forcibly forgotten

It hadn't lost its power

Or maybe my resistance was just low

Which one, I don't know

But the mirror was my worst enemy

Trying to convince me that all the things I believed

Was a lie

And I

Wasn't pretty at all

But black is supposed to be beautiful, right?

Or is that just one of those things we tell ourselves

A defense mechanism so that we can cope

Knowing we'll never really be accepted as we are

Au natural

So we're forced to hide

Hiding behind layers of make up

Trying to make us

Into a new shade

Of acceptance

Searching for validity in

Places where it will never come

Trying hard to be everyone

Except for who we are

Living the lies

Of each brush stroke

Behind mirrors and smoke

Learning to secretly reject

the essence of

reality