Perfect Imperfections

I clearly remember the day I realized that I hated myself. I was 12 years old.

I was looking at a photo of myself. My dad had taken it earlier in month to commemorate my first day as the concert-master of my youth orchestra. I was wearing a black beret with a matching black coat and pink scarf, proudly clutching my violin case in my right hand. I looked so happy and carefree.

I lay on my bed holding the photo inches from my face, analyzing every feature and nitpicking details that were only visible to my critical eye. I hated how certain angles brought attention to “problem” areas on my body. I hated how my chin slightly doubled when I smiled. I hated the dark circles under my eyes. I hated how my right eye was bigger than my left. I hated the small patch of zits settled on the side of my cheek. The list grew longer, more critical. I fell into a deep pit of self-loathing. Sitting up, I stared at the brightly colored walls of my room. Red, orange, and yellow. They seemed to mock my blue-gray soul. Eye-brows furrowed and mouth twisted in frustration, I dreamt of the day when I would have a job and I’d undergo every cosmetic surgery needed to “fix” myself.

From then on, I despised looking at pictures of myself for the longest time.

Four years later, however, my dream came true…or so I thought. Facetune had just released a free download, subscription-based version of the app. I’d wanted it ever since the original app was released in 2013, but it was $3.99 per month and I was never going to ask my parents to buy it for me. So I eagerly downloaded Facetune onto my iPhone. And It was amazing.

I could smooth out my textured skin, erase pimples, make my eyes bigger, whiten my teeth, reshape my nose, make my face smaller, and add a full face of makeup! Suddenly, I loved taking selfies. I could become whoever I wanted to be. There wasn’t a photo in my gallery that was left untouched. But the more I used the app, the more I hated myself. I was falling in love with the girl I was creating, and I was angry I didn’t truly reflect that image. My Facetune era eventually ended, but I was left with a heap of insecurities that I still struggle with today as a 22-year-old woman.

I was reminded of my Facetune era earlier this week as I was scrolling through TikTok. Numerous young women shared throwback photos, criticizing and laughing at their (now) obvious photoshop attempts. It was amusing and comforting to see that I wasn’t alone, but it also made me very sad to see how a whole generation of women suffered under the harsh constraints of beauty standards. I’ve never known a life where I wasn’t constantly bombarded with filters, apps, and images that perpetuate what the idealized woman should look like. Unfortunately, this is a plague that never ends for women.

From a young age, women are told that they’re supposed to stay petite, perfect, and ageless, all while having careers, getting married, and raising children. In an ideal world, that would be wonderful—but as I grow into adulthood, I’m learning that my body is more complex than I ever imagined. I’ve had to learn that fluctuations in weight are normal, breakouts and textured skin are normal, stretch marks are normal, and eventually, aging will be a natural progression.

I’ve come to terms with these changes, but I’m not sure if society ever will. When I walk into stores, every magazine features an airbrushed actress or model, because textured skin and wrinkles are considered gross and unattractive on women. Yet on a male actor or model, wrinkles and gray hair are considered rustic and refined (just think of Chris Evans’s “Sexiest Man Alive” photoshoot, and every other man that has ever been featured on the cover of People Magazine). Social media vultures continually criticize actresses such as Emilia Clarke for refusing to undergo cosmetic surgery or get botox, comparing her to “spoiled milk.” Artists like Nicki Minaj and SZA have both faced criticism for recent weight gain. Despite the criticism they’ve faced, all three of these women have decided to embrace these changes. Striving to please people or fit within societal beauty standards is exhausting. It’s unhealthy, mentally and physically.

As I've increasingly settled into my womanhood, I’ve made myself a promise: any lifestyle changes I make will be strictly for my health and wellbeing, not to fit a beauty standard or make other people happy. My imperfections are perfect, because they are what makes me Shania Watts. I am my own beauty standard.

I try to tell myself this as often as possible, and sometimes, there are days I struggle to believe it. But nowadays, when I look in the mirror or see a photo of myself, I’m glad to say that I grimace less and smile more.

So, in honor of Women’s History Month and empowerment, I just want to say one thing to all the women reading this:

You are your own beauty standard.

You are beautiful.

You are resilient.

You are worthy.

You are loved by God.