From as young as when I was 7, all the way to the days when I was an actress, about 23 years, almost half of my life, I had been told to change many things about myself. And here are the top 7 on the To-Do-Something-About-It-list:
1. My eyes were too small (I discovered the magic of fake eyelashes)
2. My boobs were too flat (Nothing I could do about it, still flat)
3. My hair was wiry (Rebonding yay!)
4. I had no waist (I starved)
5. I was not tall enough (Nothing I could do, still 162cm)
6. I was not thin enough (I starved)
7. I had pig trotters for legs (I starved)
You see, I tried to do something about these problems, to the best of my abilities, without going under the knife or needles, not because I am against enhancements, but because I have an inexplicable paranoia of surgeries, big and small. And starving myself really did not work, on the contrary, it made me feel even lousier than ever.
I just watched the film #IFeelPretty (starring Amy Schumer), which even though exploited clichés of what it means to be beautiful, hits me with the undeniable self/society-imposed demand of the importance of being attractive. Attractive to who, to achieve what, as plain Sharons we were not told, but simply that we were not good enough looking like this. In hindsight, I wasted too much resources on trying to be something else I was not. When what we should have done is to allow each girl to shine just the way you are, supported by grace, elegance and heart, which have nothing to do with how flawless your face and body is.
I urge all of us to find worthier role models to emulate.