That Dark Spot on my Underarm
I had a wonderful weekend getaway to Philadelphia. On my bus back to New York, I was looking for a new picture to be uploaded on Instagram so I could one day look at it and recall my experiences and adventures with fondness.
I looked through my photo album and found a picture I really liked. It featured my artificial tattoo (sorry if I disappointed you with that!) and most importantly, my great wide smile. I was truly happy.
However, as I uploaded the picture, something stood out — a dark spot on my underarm.
I panicked. I looked at my underarm and immediately, I realised what that spot was. That spot was a shadow casted where my skin kind of sank in because I have skinny arms and without much muscle or fat there, that dark spot stood out.
But even when I knew that, I was afraid that if I posted the picture, people would think that I had a darker underarm. I felt embarrassed, fearful, and above all, ashamed.
I thought of ways to try remove that. I tried the blemish-eimination edits on a photo-editing app, I experimented with the different filters (even using filter upon filter), I attempted to adjust the contrast/exposure, and I even thought of blurring out the photo so it would not be obvious that the spot was there.
The above image was the best I came up with. It’s been more than 24 hours since I first uploaded it and I have had friends been so kind with their ‘likes’ and comments, each making me smile as I felt happy when the compliments came. In all honesty, I am very thankful for all those. Thankful for friends who want to provide me with the affirmation I obviously seek, an encouragement, and all in all, little gestures of kindness and love.
Still, that dark spot stood out to me. No one mentioned it yet, but I don’t think no one has noticed.
That strong sense of insecurity crept its way to my heart and it took my friend, Sarah, to tell me how I should not even be bothered by it, before I realised that I have let myself down.
I was ashamed of my body. What’s worse is that in my insecurity, I was perpetuating a particular image women “should” have — one with flawless skin (and non-existent underarms).
It frightens me how I, a strong believer of self-love, had fallen into the trap of thinking that I should be ashamed just because I look nothing like the girls you see on magazines and billboards, and even, the “girl-next-door” on your Instagram feeds. It saddens me that even the most “flawless-looking” of girls, probably had to edit their photographs repeatedly before uploading them, just so their instagram followers, that range from the tens to the hundred thousands, would give them that one ‘like’. It’s heart-wrenching to know that still more others are just hoping for a bare minimum of tolerance, that no one would comment on how fat/flat/ugly they are.
We try so hard just to achieve something so unattainable and I wonder why. This has been written about way too many times, so I’m not going to pretend to be an expert critic of the media and of the unrealistic standards of beauty that corporations have created in this inherently ugly consumerist system we live in. What I want to bring your attention to is the idea of ‘Acceptance’.
We upload these pictures, write those captions, and incessantly beautify our social media uploads in an attempt to gain acceptance in this harsh and judgmental world — an acceptance of us into an in-group made up of cool/trendy/hipster/glamorous/popular people. We seek to impress, and while we fight for likes and little gestures of acceptance, what we have been neglecting is the most important kind of acceptance that is central to the health of the soul.
An acceptance of oneself.
When we do all these vanity antics, we effectively fail to love us for us. Photoshop edits, retouches and filters can give us smoother skin, longer and slimmer legs, bigger breasts and larger eyes. Sure, we gain ‘likes’ and probably that brings us a sense of happiness. But are we really happy? I know that I, for one, do not give myself longer legs (although I want those so desperately) because I will feel so hurt if that picture ever gets more ‘likes’ than one that depicts me as the true 5 feet-tall me.
Well, I am just another person struggling to find that acceptance within me. I cannot give you good advice on how we should go about loving our bodies and how we should be proud, dark spot on underarm or not. What I can do, though, is to write about my experiences, so you know that you are not alone if you ever feel that inability to post something confidently because your “flaws” stand out. Edit/filter/VSCO your photographs if that brings you happiness, but if your reason for editing is just so you could inch a little closer to that unrealistic standard of beauty, let me tell you now — you will never reach it.
Above all, the more you struggle to obtain that “perfect” look, the more you fuel this system that oppresses you; strengthening its grip on you, squeezing what little esteem you may have left — and I’m talking to my readers of all genders alike.
Now that I’ve told you all these, am I going to walk the talk and never edit my photos for blemishes ever again? No. I can’t promise you that, and it saddens me that I just can’t. Have I learnt to accept myself entirely, “flaws” and all? Well, no. It will take months, maybe even years, before I can achieve that. I am limited, and this is a true struggle, but I will get stronger each time I ignore a blemish and upload anyway. And, if there’s a first step I’m going to take, uploading my original and untouched picture will be it. So here it is:
That’s right. I am beautiful.
