Shadow Beauty
Many people claim that, as they grow older, their beauty will fade. But I think they’ll still be more beautiful than I am.
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Sitting on a window seat on a bus, I see the city looking peaceful. But if you look around, you'll see people sweating from work, closing their stores, a mom scolding her kid on a dark street, and tired people sleeping beside me because of their exhausted day.
As I sit on this cool bus, trying to keep my makeup from melting off with sweat, I notice how others with clear skin don't have to worry about such things. It makes me feel so small.
Thinking about the time I spend putting on makeup to hide my insecurities, while others don't bother,
makes me wish I could use makeup to cover other people saying judgements.
I sometimes get anxious if my makeup is still staying put. While others don’t feel this kind of anxiety.
Coming home after a tiring day, I look at my face in the mirror. I see a flawless version of myself—a beautiful version. Not someone judged for blackheads, acne marks, or a double chin.
I see a perfect face, accepted by the society.
Taking a few selfies with a bit of filter to achieve a perfect look, I edit out my eye bags, make my double chin disappear, and sharpen my nose.
All this effort just to look beautiful in public.
But when I look in the mirror, I see a mask on my face. A perfect face, but only because of the makeup that enhances it. As I slowly clean my face with cotton pads and cleanser, revealing my true skin, tears come to my eyes.
Why do I have to face harsh judgments because of how I look? Why do I feel so insecure when I see other girls who look so beautiful?
It’s unfair to be treated badly just for not being pretty.
If you’re pretty and slim, you get a privilege, and everything is easier. But when you’re fat, have severe acne, or even have an asymmetrical face, they will laugh at you.
Looking at myself in the mirror with tears and smeared makeup,
I wonder: Will anyone love this version of me? Will anyone take a moment to appreciate my true beauty?
Slowly removing the makeup that’s been on my face for hours just to receive compliments from society, I wonder how a single judgment can make someone feel so terrible.
How a single discrimination can make me feel so worthless.
How terrible it is to envy those who can afford expensive skincare and visit dermatologists easily. How sad that one judgment can make someone like me feel so insecure about everything.
Waking up from a deep sleep, I suddenly realize the bus has reached its last stop. And everything was just a mere dream, yet just so I hope. The conductor stands beside me.
"Ganda gising na, napasarap ata tulog mo."
It’s a common greeting, but it makes me smile. Being called "pretty" by someone who doesn’t even know the real me.
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