Crazy Loves Company

Belle & Billie

So I’m a bit obsessed reading about Brooke, the real life Belle De Jour, and loved this recent post on her blog:

Let me tell you about the best gift I ever received. And it’s not a bit of sparkly jewellery, or a shiny car, or even a thoughtful trinket of affection.

I’m talking about my scars.

I had terrible acne as a teenager. By the age of 16 it was so bad a dermatologist said it was the worst she’d ever seen, which, ya know, is not super encouraging. And then it got worse. So bad that at the hospital where I volunteered mothers pulled their children away from me, convinced I was plagued with something contagious. Strangers avoided making eye contact.

At one point I could not wash my face without it bleeding. Many mornings I woke up stuck to the pillowcase. And oh yeah, the acne wasonly on my face. Not one blemish anywhere else on my body. To this day, I still never have seen a photo of anything like it - apart from some daguerrotypes of smallpox patients.

It was a very long, and very expensive, journey to improving my skin - remember, this all went down in America, where having a disfiguring condition you have no control over is not covered by health insurance, and duh, there’s no NHS.

Long story short, a lot of Roaccutane and Dianette did for the acne but I got the scars as a memento. And more importantly, here’s what I learned:

1. Beauty is fleeting. Thank fuck for that.

I had a narrow escape from being just another boring blonde - not to mention an early release from the cycle of self-hatred and frantic desperation that plagues many women as they age. Accepting my outward flaws helped me stop seeing them to the exclusion of everything else, and hey presto, most other people did too. Corollary 1a: The larger part of how people perceive you is how you present yourself. 

2. People can be hurtful to strangers. That’s their problem.

My best childhood mate had spina bifida. She walked on sticks and refused to use a wheelchair for reasons I only started to appreciate years later. Looking like a medical oddity gave me, for a very brief time, a very small taste of what she encounters every day of her life. It made me pity people who equate someone’s appearance with their value as a person. This generalises magnificently to strangers judging you for, in fact, anything at all. Corollary 2a: The most vocal critics are often the most insecure.

3. Other people have things you don’t. Big deal.

There is no such thing as the Most Beautiful Woman in the World (sorry Buttercup). Who cares? What is considered desirable is not especially worth getting hung up on. You may not be a six-foot Amazon so will never have legs up to your neck - but for all you know, that same supermodel would give her left arm to have your hair. This concept generalises to wealth, success, talent, and intelligence as well.Corollary 3a: Envy of other women’s looks is a zero-sum game, and uses far too much time and energy to be bothered with.

4. Quality of love is not a function of attractiveness.

Elizabeth Taylor, for instance, has been married eight times. Beautiful people have dry spells and get their hearts broken like everyone else. The most worthwhile and loving relationships in my life all happened after my skin problems. And for what it’s worth, I’ve been fortunate to date some pretty nice, smart (and attractive) men in my time. See Corollary 1a above.

5. Confidence doesn’t come overnight.

It also doesn’t happen in a vacuum; it requires nurturing. As with anything else worth having it’s work. But let me tell you, it is so worth the work. A mate recently told me about a magazine ‘happiness quiz’ in which one of the questions was, “are you comfortable with your body, AND do you exercise regularly?” If you can see why this should not have been a single question, you’re on the way to Getting It. Corollary 5a:Confidence happens when you let it happen. No one gives it to you, which is great, because it also means they can’t take it from you. 

6. When someone says I am beautiful, they really, really mean it.

There is something about knowing someone sees you, quirks and all, and likes what they see… something rare and kind of overwhelming (in a good way). ‘Beautiful’ is one of those words (a bit like ‘awesome’) that has lost meaning in being overused as a generic affirmative. We call all sorts of people beautiful in one sentence and tear them down in the next. I’m happy to be different enough that anyone who uses it to describe me sees more than just hair and makeup.