Egocentric git

Since my silly poem about iced coffee, I think I've recovered some of my composure. I've been thinking about the whole self-esteem issue, tonight. Not that I have trouble with it - I'm an egocentric git.

I was watching Futurama - that episode with the enormous women on a planet with no men. (For those who haven't read much of this blog, you might like to refer to my post entitled Men, glorious men for my opinion on them.) The bit that stuck in my mind was the two women complimenting each other and calling themselves fat. This is hardly an exaggeration, I regret.

Women, more so than men, seem to hate themselves. Why? Beats me. I wonder if they're just fishing for compliments or they really do feel that way. Probably both, but the latter mostly because they buy those goofy products that promise to make them look like models. Daft. Truly daft.

Now I'm realistic enough to know that I'm no super-model. I'm a comfortable size 12 (or 10, in the brands that like to flatter people my size) and I don't have great skin. But I don't spend my time thinking I should be a size 8, or trying to raise the money for plastic surgery. Even if I had the money, the risks and my personal values say it doesn't matter. My acne scars and my curvy bits aren't a problem.

This, I say to those of you who obsess over minor physical shortcomings - get over it. I now get told often enough that I'm intelligent, funny, attractive, etc. It's nice. I like the affirmation of others. But I don't need it. (There's a good chance the buggers are just humouring me 'cos they know I think I'm all those things!) But I'll tell you a sad story. I was the kid at school who looked like a human pizza. I was taunted almost constantly. You know what else? I don't remember once hearing my parents say they were proud of me, or anything like that. Boo hoo. Even then (though loathing my acne) I knew I was decent to look at underneath it. More importantly, I didn't think I was a waste of space as a person. Never did. I was stuck with my looks and I held onto my equally unpopular kooky character. It was a hideously unpleasant experience, especially from a teenage perspective, but I got through it. I came out the other end with my acne gone and my dignity and individuality intact. Now people say nice things about me. Funny how things turn around, eh?

My point is this: most of the people I hear putting themselves down never had such a deforming condition as severe cystic acne, yet clearly feel they worse about themselves than I ever did. Here's an example of a conversation I had with someone on a related subject:

Friend: I'm fat.
Me: Do you think I'm fat?
Friend: What? No!
Me: I'm twice your size.
Friend: I never thought about it that way.

If you don't think badly of someone else with the same or a worse feature than the one you're worried about in yourself, maybe you should quit it.

Now here's where I pose the question of the nature of ego. Am I horribly egocentric to say I'm satisfied with the person I see in the mirror and there are times I stop and think to myself that I'm pretty awesome? Well, maybe. But isn't it worse to spend all your time whining to your friends 'I'm fat' or 'I don't like my hair' to get people to either affirm your worth or give you an excuse to believe you have none? If you don't like it, change it. If you can't change it, shut up about it.

When it comes down to it, the average guy on the street doesn't give a rat's arse about my acne scars or your big butt. It's egomaniacal to think they do. And the people that care about you probably aren't half as concerned about those things as you are. If you legitimately need help (for instance, to lose weight) then by all means ask. But finding self worth doesn't start with anyone but you. No matter how many voices told me I was ugly or stupid, mine always said 'bollocks to that' - and I got on with my life. You'll be amazed at what a little self-confidence can do for you.