22 & not a clue

My boyfriend showed this video to me in bed the other night, and after it finished I was in tears and he smiled and said 'you don't see who you really are'. That got me thinking, no I'm not going to start Carrie Bradshaw style asking ridiculous rhetorical questions, but we as women are really quite hard on ourselves. The simple act of describing our face to a stranger does not marry up with how that stranger would necessarily describe us.

Yet we're becoming a society who take 'selfies' and send 'sexts', we are giving away our bodies soo freely these days thanks to the internet. It's this perpetual contradiction that we take photos of ourselves and yet can meet a stranger and struggle to say one positive thing about our physical selves.

I've struggled with my body image all my life. I am still struggling. I have never met a woman who is  100% happy with herself and I don't blame the media, I see it more that we don't promote a healthy outlook on our bodies within society from a young age. Mum better not be reading this, but daughters don't grow up being told to love themselves, instead mothers take the chocolate bars away and furrow their brows. Words like diet and weight creep into everyday language as that little girl creeps towards tenuous teenagedom. There's suddenly this sense of urgency that she'll become a hefty teen, life will be difficult for her, the other kids will pick on her because she's heavier.

Life will always be difficult, instilling a sense of foreboding about body image at the tender age of 11, 12, 13 and beyond isn't going to help. We need to teach our daughters to love themselves. Then teach them to make better choices, involve them in cooking, make them do at least one kind of sports or regular exercise from an early age. Basically, encourage being healthy to be happy over being thin to fit in.

It is my sincere hope that this generation of women, who have grown up with slut marches, fat shaming, thin privelege and rise of the plus size modelling world will go on to raise their daughters to love themselves first and appreciate being healthy second. Loving the skin you're in should be a given.

Increasingly I'm noticing things that never seemed to matter before which now alter everything in their finite detail. Like the creases in a skirt that previously I wouldn't bother to iron or the sudden necessity to polish my shoes and finally the importance of eyebrows. These details are filling in the space between all the other things I think about. Not quite so much so that I am beginning to turn into a 52 year old shorter version of myself, but enough that I smugly smile and think 'I'm a grown up.'

Speaking of which last week I paid a wizened crone $200 for the privelege of wearing lipstick and discussing my finances. It is the most expensive grown up thing I have ever done and thank god the ATO is rewarding me with tax back otherwise I would have lost my shit. Each adult thing is a personal mile stone, an achievement in that I did it myself. Pathetic really considering millions of people do these things everyday.

I guess what I am celebrating is the subconsciousness of it all. It's becoming second nature to do sensible things. I still don't understand the stock market or how to wire a plug - but I have done my tax return and I remember to pencil my eyebrows each morning so that counts right? With six weeks left of my Australian adventure I am financially independent and hopeful that I may not be as clueless as when I arrived.

It's human nature to freak out, but it's even more natural to learn and grow. Appreciating the things you've learnt to handle and the experiences that taught you nothing is ever that big a deal is important. Especially now when no one else will know if you remembered to polish your shoes or not: it's all up to you now. Twenty somethings are human beanstalks - we just keep growing up and reaching skyward despite all the axes and Jacks along the way.

When you tell someone you're in your 20s and you're a ______ (fill the blank). They may roll their eyes, or smile at you wistfully, pitying your naivety. You're a label and a uniform. A pay cheque away from the next purchase or a boyfriend away from 'the one'.

You are running from one dream to the next and slamming your sorry heart around without a care. You are living for the moments when you feel you've achieved something. When someone recognises your accomplishments, when your parents say they're proud or your friends say they're jealous. You are grasping at your future with claws unfurled.

At the same time most of the things you do are tinged with the feeling that it just doesn't count because you are supposed to spend this decade fucking up. You're supposed to be learning all of life's lessons one bad decision at a time. So to hear that this learning curve isn't meant to go on for an entire decade, but more to be built upon and seized is a cause for relief. Because it means you're not mad to think it's not ok to waste the next 8 years screwing around. Which seems to be the conscious decision of most of your peers at times.

I have never wanted to play 'emotional musical chairs' with men, however it feels it has happened that way regardless at times. I don't know a woman who isn't guilty of choosing less than what she deserved it feels an inherent part of the modern female mindset. We choose wrongly because we choose to treat our twenties like a rough draft - it'll make a better story I suppose. However in the end we are using up precious time and rambling through paragraphs of a life we cannot re-write. We can't then rush in to another decade once we hit thirty expecting it to be easy to find a partner and settle down. Time catches up with us eventually.

Build on your experiences from one to the next. Cut loose the dead weight friends, choose the off the wall ideas and go with them. Because ultimately the new friends will bring the new people and new opportunities which will broaden your horizons and maybe even change your life. Never stop being curious. Don't sit there being the only one still running around to the music so you grab the closest chair - walk away from the party & find a new one. Don't lose your innocence and appreciation for the simple, at the same time don't accept less than what will make you happiest. Forgive yourself all your mistakes - learn from them.

Being a twenty something was never going to be easy and as I sit awaiting June 30th & my first ever tax return, part of me wishes I could still be the 15 year old girl who just wanted the perfect denim skirt.

Letting go is rather like a bikini wax. You know you need to do it, you know it's good for you, you know you can't bare yourself again without it. But it hurts like fuck.
Sometimes you even pay someone for the privilege of helping you. Forty eight bucks in my case, at Brazillian Butterfly in Richmond.

So as I lay there this afternoon in the awkwardly primary coloured themed treatment room the old thought came to me. "Fuck, I'm in Australia" & then Rip.
Let rip.
I have let go of a huge chunk of my life this past year. Soo much change has washed over me and come to pass that it really does catch me some times.

I have graduated uni with a 2.1, I have paid off all my overdraft & credit card as well as buying a flight & visa, I have moved 10,000 miles away & I have started a new life out here complete with job, flat & savings. In two & 1/2 weeks I'm going to Sydney. I have let go of soo much in order to get to this point. All of life is an act of letting go. You accept all that has come to pass to grow to be the person whose ready for what comes next. So as I handed over my 50 dollar note I smiled to myself as I realised that at 22 I no longer blush or feel ashamed about who I am or where I have been. I simply let it go.