Hot showers.

I

Insidious Joe

Guest
Original poster
Sometimes, during the winter, I like to take hot showers. Maybe not the kind that you, the reader, think of when you imagine ‘hot shower.’

Sometimes, I go into the bathroom, and I strip off all my clothes. I look at myself in the mirror, right in the eye, and take in that hazel gaze. A mystery wrapped in sorrow lies just beneath the surface. Then I take in all my features: Black hair, scorched with tips of silver at the age of twenty. Hereditary, or stress? Both? Round face, large nose, shaggy facial hair, cut in places from the scars accrued over time. At times I believe myself to be good-looking in my own unique way. Most times I hate every detail, every inch.

Then I turn the shower on. I don’t use any cold water. I twist the knob as far as it will go. Water spills forth, its very existence choking the room with its heat, fogging up the mirrors that I use to hate upon myself within minutes.

I step inside, and let it pour down my body, from my head into every shape, every contour, to the tips of my toes. Its very touch burns, as if it could wash away the imperfections that I find in myself. As if it could melt away all the fat, burn away the earthly sins I indulge, day in and out.

My skin turns tender, and pink. It hurts, but not as badly as I do on the inside. It damages me, but not as badly as society has, with its ideals of the perfect person. The perfect man I’ll never be. Never good enough, so what does it matter what I do to myself in here?

When I am finished, I turn off the water. I step out, and I look at the mirror. I can’t see myself, so I smile. That’s all I’ve wanted. I leave the bathroom and walk through the cold house to my bedroom, and lie wet on my bed.

Sometimes, during the winter, I like to take hot showers.
 
Alright, here this goes.


Pink had the right idea when she sang 'perfect.' which is why I am going to post the lyrics, one paragraph to the next.

Made a wrong turn once or twice
Dug my way out, blood and fire
Bad decisions, that's alright
Welcome to my silly life


We all have body issues some time in our lives. I weigh 180, I do not have a clear complection (I have struggled with acne since I was twelve), I am crippled and you can obviously see it, I have a very large nose, one arm is longer than the other. I can't grow facial hair unless it is my unibrow gene, which I admit to shaving.

Mistreated, misplaced, misunderstood
Miss 'No way, it's all good'
It didn't slow me down.
Mistaken, always second guessing
Underestimated, look I'm still around


I've shot myself down in the past. My teen years were awful and I hurt myself because I was tired of being teased for being the ugliest kid in school. Wearing sweatshirts even in the middle of a very hot summer. I always said 'I'm alright."


But:

Pretty, pretty please, don't you ever, ever feel
Like you're less than fucking perfect
Pretty, pretty please, if you ever, ever feel
Like you're nothing, you're fucking perfect to me


I learned that this is my body. This is who I am. If somebody doesn't like my body, they can kiss my big fat pale ass. Because no matter what, this is the body I was born in, and if I didn't learn to love myself, nobody would.

You're so mean (so mean) when you talk (when you talk)
About yourself. You were wrong.
Change the voices (change the voices) in your head (in your head)
Make them like you instead.


Because I completely agree that everyone's body is beautiful. Curves, thick, thin, short, small...humans all come in many kinds of light. We have grown up in a society all over the world that endorses people to look like models, or look like Barbie when that is never possible because everyone has three body types. Everyone's genetic make up is different, everyone has what others see as faults (even if that other is you), and everyone has good traits. But our difference is what makes us beautiful, because if everyone looked the same, we'd all be boring.

So complicated,
Look how we all make it.
Filled with so much hatred
Such a tired game
It's enough, I've done all I could think of
Chased down all my demons
I've seen you do the same
(Oh oh)


Pretty, pretty please, don't you ever, ever feel
Like you're less than fucking perfect
Pretty, pretty please, if you ever, ever feel
Like you're nothing, you're fucking perfect to me


The whole world's scared, so I swallow the fear
The only thing I should be drinking is an ice cold beer
So cool in lying and we try, try, try but we try too hard
And it's a waste of my time.
Done looking for the critics, cause they're everywhere
They don't like my jeans, they don't get my hair
Exchange ourselves and we do it all the time
Why do we do that, why do I do that (why do I do that)?


(Yeah! Oh!)
Oh, pretty, pretty, pretty


Pretty, pretty please, don't you ever, ever feel
Like you're less than fucking perfect
Pretty, pretty please, if you ever, ever feel
Like you're nothing, you're fucking perfect to me
(You're perfect, you're perfect)
Pretty, pretty please, if you ever, ever feel
Like you're nothing, you're fucking perfect to me.



Why did I just share that with you, like my story would ever help? Because I hate how people have told everyone how the human body should look like, and what is attractive, when all the beauty is there and they cannot see it. You are beautiful, and don't ever let anyone even you say differently.