HAPPY NEW YEAR!
I recently revealed via Instagram (@britwithane 😉 ) that during my anticipation of the new year, I had tremendous, well-meaning plans to write an entry about New Years Resolutions and how I think they’re ridiculous. I never wrote that post, and in the spirit of total honesty, it was 100% due to lack of motivation…and because my goal this year is to NOT beat myself to a pulp over not meeting my own imaginary expectations, I’m not going to stress about it. The intention was there and the ideas were great, but they simply were never meant to come to fruition. And that’s O.K.
Instead, I’m going to write about zits.
Yes, zits. Pimples. Acne. Mounds of facial destruction. Whatever your preferred term, I think we can all agree that these unwanted guests are almost always, well, unwanted.
Is it just me, or does it seem like zits almost ALWAYS arise when it’s LEAST convenient to have zits? I think we can all recall at least one situation in our lives that showcases this unfortunate reality: you wake up for a job interview, and three new “friends” have planted themselves square on your chin, nose, and forehead…red and swollen as can be. You wake up on the morning of the ONLY Saturday that you can dedicate to renewing your driver’s license, only to find that your face looks like the solar system, except not nearly as stellar. Or, worst of all, you show up at your job working with small, brutally honest children, and one points at your face and says “You got a boo boo?” (yikes)
Awesome. Now that I’ve taken you to that place (you’re welcome), I’m sure you can imagine my TOTAL FRUSTRATION when I woke up on the morning of a scheduled photo shoot with four or five very large, very visible pimples spread across my face, making an almost connect-the-dots-like picture of a moon (I’m serious, the very first thing I noticed was that if you came up to me with a marker and literally connected the dots on my face, you would have an almost perfect depiction of a crescent moon).
It’s worth mentioning that I’ve never really struggled with my skin…with the exception of my bumpy and oily middle school years, of course. Aside from that ~glorious~ rite of passage, my skin had always remained relatively clear and seemingly satisfied with my minimal routine of Aveeno Apricot facial scrub: once in the morning and once at night. So when my face broke out like this, on the morning of a photo shoot, nonetheless, I was devastated AND confused.
It was also a Sunday, so Shane and I made our way to church despite my internal desire to just stay home and tend to my poor face. I tried my best to cover it all up, but I still felt as though EVERYONE was marveling at the twisted crescent moon I was displaying on the most visible part of my body. It was rough. But then, I heard the message. And it spoke to me.
More honesty, ya’ll: I don’t remember much of the rest of the sermon. But what I do remember is the preacher at one point declaring that “the thing in your right hand is a lie.“ Essentially, this meant that whatever you hold “in your right hand” that holds you back + acts as a distraction from living loved in the way God desires for you is a lie. My lie, my distraction, the thing I was holding in my right hand, was my vanity.
This isn’t to say that we shouldn’t care about the way we present ourselves; I still love to play with makeup and wear cute things! I sincerely believe that having a style that is uniquely your own is truly a reflection of God in you, and everyone should be proud of that. It only becomes a distraction when we become so obsessed with our physical appearance that it acts as a detriment to how we see ourselves, how we interact, how we live, and how we love. That is what happened to me that morning. That was my wake-up call.
The second I noticed a minor impurity on my physical self, I shut down. I couldn’t hold a conversation with my own fiance, let alone the people at church or at the store. Heck, I hardly even wanted my cat looking at me. I was so obsessed with how I looked that I internalized every single glance that came my way. Every conversation that I found myself in, I retracted and felt myself directing my gaze to the floor. I felt as though I was ugly, undesirable, and a shell of my true self.
HOWEVER, once I began to let go of what was in my right hand (my obsession with my physical appearance), I was able to see more clearly that having zits was actually NOT a detriment: it made me HUMAN. It meant that I had skin and pores and natural oils that worked together and sometimes screwed up. It meant that my workouts (which have been more intense lately) have been causing my body to produce sweat, meaning I was getting stronger. It meant that my body was this great, natural, organic specimen that worked in insanely spectacular ways. I was suddenly reminded that I have a body that can literally produce LIFE. It can fight off certain disease. It can run. It can squat. It can stretch. It can swim. It can breathe. And sometimes, it can produce pimples.
It’s actually a little hilarious how quickly my brain spiraled into all these crazy-deep revelations about the wonders of the human body based solely on a few pimples in the shape of a crescent moon + a line from a sermon at church. And while I definitely was still less than happy about it, I did end up flourishing during my photo session so much more than I would have if I hadn’t heard that line, and if I hadn’t released what was in my right hand, and if my eyes hadn’t been opened to the incredible gift that is having a body that works by itself.
If you don’t think that I’m a total lunatic by now (trust me, I would TOTALLY understand if you did), hopefully that means that you’ve gained a slightly better perspective on yourself and your own insecurities. I don’t know what’s in your right hand, but if you’re in the habit of obsessing over looking flawless all the time, hopefully you can remember that to be flawed is to be alive, and to be alive is wondrous.