Happy Friday! It's been another wonderful week here in London, and even though I've only been here 11 days, it's crazy how much I already feel like a local (because taking pictures like this with Big Ben is what they do, right!?). Either way, I've truly loved every second here and am falling in love with it more and more everyday.
As promised a few weeks ago, I'm using Thursdays and Fridays on the blog to put aside the logistics and planning aspects of travel and instead, talk more about the emotions that come with it (because there are lots). Last night, in true "local" fashion, Haley and I and went to the pub for a pint (Ok, fine. We had Pinot Grigio- so sue us.)
Per usual when the two of us hang out, we found ourselves in deep conversation about life. The particular topic that we happened to be discussing (with great passion) was who our society chooses to idolize. But before I dive into where the conversation went, let me rewind a bit.
Earlier this summer, I took a trip to Rocky Mountain National Park. While I was there, I summited Hallet Peak (in other words, I hiked roughly 11 miles, climbed over 200 floors and gained well over 3,000 feet in altitude... but who’s counting?)
Standing at 12,713 feet is exhilarating. When I reached the top, I was at a higher elevation than I was when I went skydiving, and above that point on an airplane when the flight attendant tells you “You’re now free to use your portable electronics.” And while the views are incredible, the winds are brutal and the air is thin. It’s not for the faint of heart.
There are dozens of stories I could tell about that hike: the process, the difficulty, the views...but what grabbed my attention above everything else was the wildflowers I saw at the summit.
Sure, they were beautiful and vibrant blue, but they weren’t the prettiest flowers I had ever seen in my life. What made them so memorable to me wasn’t the fact that they were pretty. In the thin mountain air and the harsh, cold wind, they weren’t just alive- they were flourishing. They were strong, resilient and unexpected. They were incredible. They were so much more than just pretty.
It got me thinking: why do so many of us idolize the concept of being pretty when there are so many other things we can strive to be? Don’t get me wrong, I want to be pretty too. I wear make up. I color my hair. I eat healthy in attempt to be skinny. Hell, I’ve even had eyelash extensions (don’t knock it til you try it). And if I’m being really honest, I’ve still struggled a bit lately in this department.
I’ve eaten my fair share of carbs over here in Europe, so let’s just say last year’s jeans don’t fit the way they used to. I’ve been in about 10 different climates the last month and as a result my skin has decided to break out like it did when I was a teenager. Long story short, there have definitely been seasons when I felt more “pretty” than I do right now. One of those seasons was just a year ago.
Last year at this time, I had recently gone through a pretty terrible breakup. I had no appetite and was barely eating. I was frivolously spending money I didn’t need to spend on things like Tom Ford lipstick and $300 Helmut Lang tops to try to make myself feel better. But I was miserable.
I vividly remember so many people telling me how great I looked. How I’ve “never looked better” or to “Keep up whatever you’re doing!” And as good as it may have felt to hear those comments, the sentiment was always fleeting. Pretty soon I was miserable again: starved, lonely, depressed, and guilt ridden from my irresponsible purchases.
I know I’m not the only one who has been there. Again, our world glorifies pretty. We starve ourselves with crash diets for that event around the corner. We spend billions of dollars on make-up and botox and anti-aging everything in attempt to feel better about our physical selves. And of all the wonderful people in the world accomplishing great things, our society idolizes the Kardashians for crying out loud.
I know what I need to do in order to get back to the place where the compliments will come flooding in, but quite frankly? I’m not all that interested. Don’t get me wrong. I’m far from being completely free from a lot of these things now- but striving to be pretty doesn’t deserve all of my time and energy. I want to be so many other things:
I want to be intelligent. I want to spend time reading books that are thought provoking and lead to insightful conversation with others. I want to spend time learning new languages and hearing about points of view that are different than my own. I want to be generous and remember to give back to other people or causes that I’m passionate about. I want to be someone who is brave and takes creative risks like publishing my writing or trying something new even if I end up being terrible at it. I want to be someone who is mentally and physically healthy- who spends time journaling, going to church, investing in therapy and practicing yoga. I want to be ok with spending less time caking on makeup, ferociously doing crunches or obsessing over whatever else it is I do where the end goal is simply to make myself look more attractive. I want to keep traveling as much as I can, even if it means re-wearing a single suitcase of clothes or minimizing my beauty routine so that I get to see all the world has to offer. I want to keep savoring the in macarons in Paris and the pasta in Italy without the fear of them making me fat.
Why kind of world would we live in if we all cared more about these other things? If we all invested more time and energy into being brave and strong and intelligent and courageous? If we strived to be more than something nice to look at?
I hate to be a downer, but pretty doesn’t last forever. Gravity happens. Wrinkles will come. Your metabolism will slow down. It’s going to get harder everyday to maintain your youthful appearance.
And while I strongly believe in looking your best and not giving up trying altogether, my encouragement is simply to not let other detrimental attributes be sacrificed on the altar of self-preservation. Because the world needs so much more than pretty faces.
I still find encouragement from those wildflowers I saw on my hike (their picture is the wallpaper on my phone). They remind me of the kind of beauty I should keep striving for in my own life: multi-faceted and complex- more than “just pretty." Because that’s the kind that holds real value.
So I've come to accept that I might come home from this European tour with grown out roots or jeans that are even more snug than they are now. And if I do, that's okay- because I know there's a lot more beautiful things about me than merely the size of my waist.
With that said, I hope if you've been beating yourself up over something about your appearance, you can recognize the deeper beauty you still possess. Because it's not just some catch phrase people use to make themselves feel better- it's the real stuff that will still be around when all the other beauty fades.
I'm off to get ready for another Friday night in London! Thanks for stopping by, and be sure to head back over on Tuesday- I've got some awesome recommendations from Dubrovnik to share.
Have a great weekend, friends!
xo,
Whitney
