Looking Back...

At one point several years ago, all the cool kids were keeping journals. So I decided to try it out. It did not go very well. You see, when I later tried to read back over the diary entries I could barely do it. Gag reflex kicked in. Literally. I did not actually vomit but I was not far from it. Admittedly this was during my teens, so a degree of self-hatred is to be expected. In this case, however, I was revolted enough to stop the diary keeping.

Then, not too long ago, something happened which strengthened my stomach. I was reminiscing with a friend and was appalled by some of the memories that she had of me. She very patiently waited for me to finish apologising and then said, "Aimee ... you did your best at the time with the knowledge you had." Mind-blowing.

This is something I have never forgotten, and I'm sure I will continue to repeat it to myself over and over again. Not only is it a comfort for my future self, but it is also reassuring for when I am in the middle of making a very difficult decision.

I guess it's important to remember that we have the advantage of hindsight when we're looking back. We have learned things we did not know at the time, and we got to see how events played out after our decision(s). If we had to do it all over again, we'd probably do exactly the same thing because, with our current knowledge, that is our best choice.

So thank you, Abi, not only for your sage advice but also for the kindness with which you shaped your perspective of our mutual past.

Beauty

For as long as I can remember, I have known that I am not an attractive woman. It never really bothered me because, obviously, I don't have to look at my own face. Every now and then, as a child, I would catch sight of myself in a mirror while laughing at some joke; the laughter would immediately stop and a feeling of repulsion would overwhelm me - although not for long. Our family did not, and still does not, take many photos either; so photos were also horrific to me. I was not used to seeing my face. I could recognise it as my own but somehow the image did not match my mental idea of myself.

Before I go on, I would like to reassure you that you needn't feel sorry for me. It did not affect my life greatly because, quite frankly, I didn't care what I looked like. And even as a child I felt that if you didn't like me because I was ugly that was fine because I didn't need you as a friend.

Of course ageing had its effect on my perspective. I began to wonder whether or not I was pretty. I still don't have the answer to that question. I have been told I'm attractive. Friends are good like that. They'll tell you whatever lies they think you need to hear. But that's the problem: if your friends tell you something nice how can you be sure they're not just saying that because they are biased? Or because they're eyeing up that piece of chocolate cake you have? Oh and there has been one guy who genuinely seemed to believe I was pretty. But only one guy does not count.

So this brings us to the fact that everybody knows, but that not many people seem to genuinely believe. It doesn't matter. I have to admit that it would be nice to be beautiful. But it's also fun not to be. When you're pretty you have to maintain that beauty. There's a certain liberty to being able to wear whatever you want, however you want and pull whatever faces and make whatever noises you want. I can do all these things because I'm probably ugly anyway! And let me tell you - it is FUN and it is FREE.

One last thing, the ideal of beauty constantly changes - revealing even more the fickle nature of the concept. For proof, consider the very different idea of "perfect beauty" from different periods:



4th Century BC



Early 1500s



Early 1800s





2000s

2005