Beauty and the Beast

Beauty and the Beast

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I am the first to admit that I am flawed and broken in ways that may never be repaired, but one thing I will not be told is that I am not beautiful. As far as I am concerned there isn’t a human being alive who isn’t.

I don’t care what the magazines say, I don’t care what television and movies have to say, I don’t care what internet meme’s say and I really don’t care what the beauty industry has to say.

I wish people could recognize how remarkable they are. I wish they could embrace their flaws and realize that is the stuff that makes them gorgeous. You don’t become stunning by being born. You become stunning by overcoming the never-ending list of crap that life throws at you and the insecurities that come with it.

I wasted over forty years of my life thinking I was ugly. Thinking my life sucked because I was ugly. Thinking I couldn’t find love because I was ugly. Thinking my career and bank account sucked because I was ugly. Thinking I didn’t have the right social circle because I was ugly.

But then something snapped and I changed my entire life around. One magical day, I passed a mirror and for a second it startled me. I didn’t recognize myself. But when I turned around there I was, a beautiful woman stood looking back at me.

I didn’t get plastic surgery, I didn’t get Botox, I didn’t get a haircut or a makeover. I got real. I got really honest about myself and my flaws. And zero percent of them were in my face, thighs, ass, or stomach.

My flaws were in my lack of work ethic, plans, goals and drive to succeed. They were in my closed heart and my inability to see what I was capable of. They were forged in my lack of desire to do anything about any of it. They were in my complacency and laziness. But once I tackled those, man-o-man did shit change.

I am pretty wide open on social media and because of it, I invite quite a bit of criticism. One of the most disturbing for me was from a complete stranger. He had picked up from my page that I was a blogger here at the Huffington Post and that is all the information he needed to decide I was the enemy and should be taken down. He really said that. He said, “I will make it my life’s mission to expose you”.

Why? Because I told him that most of my blogs are not political, but about changing the conversation about beauty standards.

He went off the rails. He told me that because I didn’t have a PHD or even so much as an esthetician license that I had no rights whatsoever to talk about beauty. He said that he was a physician in Fascia Lata and Ophthalogy and that he had personally helped get more than 20 prescriptions approved by the FDA including Botox.

This actually fascinated me so I tried to change the subject from politics to beauty. I mean I had someone on the line that was a certified doctor on the subject. When pressed though about his products, he told me that judging from my profile photo I was too ugly to use his products. He also told me that he is the one who has to “repair the garbage that I promote”.

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Repair the garbage I promote… That people are beautiful? That people are remarkable? That their flaws come from inside, not out? I suppose I see where he is coming from. If people understood that, maybe they would need less Botox or facelifts, or eye-jobs or cosmetics altogether. I see how that could be bad for business.

And in case you ever wondered, there is what the professionals running the beauty industry think of its consumers; garbage.

The thing that really bothered me though was how he went on and on about how because I didn’t know about cosmetic preservatives, diluents or allergic reaction rates that I didn’t have the right to talk about beauty.

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I’m sorry, but the last time I checked anyone who owns a mirror, has shaved some body hair, clipped a nail, owns a tube of mascara or has chosen an article of clothing because they think they look good in it has something to say about beauty.

I own loads of cosmetics, nail polishes, jewelry and hair bobs. I don’t wear them to impress anyone. I wear them because I feel fantastic when I do. I like the feeling of doing something for myself. I love the feeling of taking some time to highlight those things about myself I find beautiful. I enjoy adorning the body I worked so hard for in things that make me feel beautiful or sexy or smart.

No one needs a PHD or cosmetology license to understand that. I’ve spent thirty years filming and photographing some of the most critical egos in the world and even that doesn’t make me an expert. But living in a human body does.

Your flaws really do make you remarkable. Without them your true beauty can never really shine. Life is Yin and Yang like that. Facts Jack. We spend so much time wishing for a different face, nose, eye color or pant size to make us beautiful and none of it ever works. Wanna know why? Because I swear to you, it comes from inside.

Here is a challenge. Get up off your butt and send that e-mail you’ve been procrastinating sending. Go apply for that job you’ve been dreaming of, apply at every company that does that thing. Make that piece of art you are afraid of. Take that dance class or walk around the block. Start checking items off that dusty old to-do list. Get busy. Do one thing that makes you proud of yourself.

I promise you, you will feel a million times more beautiful utilizing one ounce of ambition than finally squeezing your butt in that smaller size, a $10,000 dollar facial restoration or any $12 drugstore lipstick ever will. I’m not licensed but I know that much.

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