Symbole De Résistance

 

I don't have boobs and I love it

I like to pretend that I'm one of those who doesn't care about what they look like and that I'm a true hippie at heart, worshiping the all natural way, but I'm afraid it is not that simple. Although I ideally want to live by those values, I'm just as much influenced by the all-encompassing screwed-up spell of advertising as the next guy (girl).

Last year while I was studying in the UK I got a part-time job at a certain kind of night club. The kind where there's always nearly naked, beautiful, all made-up girls ready to offer some skin, their time and undivided attention to the highest bidder. I was only a waitress, but I soon learnt that men always want what they can't have. Surrounded by fake tans, extreme make-up, nails and extensions had it's impact and I slowly started becoming aware of all the means available to tweak and fake my looks to perfection. I had the nails, the extensions and the fake tan. I lost lots of weight as the result of a horrible break-up and I still did really well at uni. However, the pressure to be perfect eventually became unbearable.

At one point I had a sort of epiphany. I woke up one morning and just didn't care. I've always wanted a tattoo but I'd been too scared to go through with it because of the ideas imposed on me over the years about how I should look. But that morning I booked a session. I love my tattoo and so does pretty much everyone else. Unlike the tattoo however, not everyone loves my two piercings, one in the right nipple and one in the septum. Most people hate my septum piercing and they are not keeping it to themselves. Two years ago I would've taken it out at the first negative comment, but it's become my little symbole de résistance. For the first time I can actually, honestly say I don't care if it doesn't suit me. It was a choice I made purely of selfish reasons and for that I love it. I choose to be ugly. And it feels amazing.