Saved Femininity

Women have been scared away from their Nature. We've been told our menstruation is disgusting, our natural body hair something to be disposed of in order to please not only the male gender but also each other (and some idea that we should be hairless). That our breasts are either too small, too saggy, too big, too disform, too unappealing. Our butts have celulitis, that's horrible, there are products, we can't afford them, "her butt looks much better than mine". That we need to look like models, too thin, too beautiful, too much make-up, not enough make up, or simply not enough in general.
It doesn't really matter why we subscribe ourselves to these ideas, but the consequences of it is that we feel we are never enough. Ever looked at a picture of yourself in your 20's and thought? Oh my, I looked great! And remember how awful you felt back then, comparing yourself to every other woman, feeling you'd never be pretty, thin, curvy or what have you enough?
Sleeping the other night, I dreamt I was about 24/25 and saw myself in that body, too thin, too maladapted, too scared, too vulnerable. I also dreamt about how I had to appear fearless in order to protect myself from my own insecurities and how they shined to those around me. The pretty selfies in order to feel better about myself, the spiritual path that led me to Goddesses, who will always be better than me, and there is no comparing possible, so I had to become them in order to grow. What an Ego! I was never pleased with myself, I was never truly happy, satisfied or fulfilled, no matter how much of the work I did was in fact fulfilling and rewarding, the Identity I felt I had was a sham. "Matilde" did not exist, was a mirage in order to please men and women around me alike, but never truly myself. What I really wanted was to be wild, to have hair in my arm pits, to show the hair on my legs in a short skirt, to take a cold shower and not brush my hair, allow it to be the wilderness that it wants so hard to be. I wanted to wear a red lipstick to just prove to myself I could wear a red lipstick if I wanted to. I felt too embarassed to do so, like I was trying to be like the others, with their beautiful shiny and hydrated lips. So I bought a red lipstick and wore it occasionally, I was heavy back then, after a period of depression I gained a lot of weight, so that lipstick was a lifesaver. I felt good about my face! I was laughing on the street thinking I was a monkey in a costume, nobody could recognize this monkey because I was disguised just like them, with their red lipsticks. Then I realized what made me feel good was because I felt pretty. I felt comfortable. I felt like I was finding myself, and my self actually likes red lipstick, I just didn't know that before. I read about the roots of make up and it felt nice to be a part of this sacred ritual of adorning my face for protection against evil spirits. I laughed at the idea that it was actually the red lipstick that saved my mind from the pits of depression. Then came the dresses and skirts, and the hair on my legs. You know what? Nobody even notices it. It's absurd. So much money down the drain we women spend trying to please a society that doesn't even notice when you don't subscribe to the Hairless Rule. It is funny, because the more I try to be real about myself, the more I notice people respect me more. There's an entire process of regaining my natural rhythms that I'm undergoing and the more real I am towards myself, the more liberated I feel from the idea of unacheivable imposed perfection of female beauty. My femininity was saved by a red lipstick and leg hair.

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