Beauty Slavery

Be your own kind of beautiful.

I’ve been paying attention to “beauty” under different eyes lately.

Watching carefully how people feel about how they look like.

Watching attentively how people react to the outside expectations of “how they should be like on the outside”.

And I’ve been terrified.


I’ve observed tension and frustration and self-rejection.

I’ve observed the “my hair is too short/long/what have you” discourse.

I’ve observed the “I need to lose weight to be happy” mantra.

I’ve observed the “my skin is not as flawless as it should be” comment.

I’ve observed the “I should be more fit” remark.

I’ve observed the “I don’t look as good as her/him” awful impression.

And I have asked myself why do we as a society give so much (unhealthy) relevance to something as relative and volatile as beauty.


We live and grow and feel inside our bodies and still, we allow the outside to tell us what to think about our own beauty.

We live the most magical moments with our bodies, we rise, we fall, we love, we feel, we discover, we explore and still, decide to trust the media and the magazines and TV for our own personal judgment.

We allow the outside to tell us if our most intimate home is right or wrong, beautiful or ugly, big or small, when it has always kept us protected and safe and breathing and vibrantly alive.

How can we allow others to decide on something so intimate, on something so deeply personal?

Isn’t it terrifying and plain wrong?


Personally, I don’t want to sign up for that madness.

I know my body won’t stay forever the same.

My breasts will move down with time.

My skin won’t be as tight as it looks now.

My face will have wrinkles (even many?) in the future.

My butt will also fall in love with gravity, eventually (as sad as it sounds).

But the whole process of aging is beautiful.

It means we are blessed with the gift of having more time to live and to experience and to make mistakes and to create and to fall in and out of love.

It means we are blessed to enjoy a new day, once again.


I also know that my body will never be perfect.

It will always have flaws and imperfections (the same ones that I have learned to love).

And that’s just right.

It’s really as good as it gets the way it is.

Embracing our own imperfections is the most beautiful and rewarding journey we could ever invest on.


I have the body that I was given.

And it takes me to unknown places.

Allows me to smell the fresh air of a rainy day.

Allows me to drink fresh water.

Allows me to see the sunsets.

Allows me to write.

Allows me to breathe slowly.

Allows me to stretch.

Allows me to hug the people I love.

Allows me to draw and to paint and to create.

Allows me to laugh.

Allows me to run.

It’s my most magical place to hide.

It’s my favorite place to live.


My body tells my own story.

I can’t compare it to anyone else’s.

I can’t aspire to get anyone else’s.

I can just love it deeply the way it is, for all the joy and possibilities and life it brings me, for all the “beauty” it allows me to live and to feel.

My body deserves to be honored and loved and respected, no matter how it looks like, only because it is really one of a kind, only because it is my own personal treasure.


When it comes to beauty, please say no to that outside slavery.

When it comes to beauty, feel free and empowered to say no to what others have to say or think.

Instead, focus on becoming your own kind of beautiful.

Instead, focus on loving your body, the hell out of it.

Because, believe me, it is the best investment you will ever make.  

Focus on loving your body, the hell out of it. Because, believe me, it is the best investment you will ever make.
Beauty Slavery