Having moved to another part of the world with completely different beauty standards, I find myself frequently stared at and filled with confusion. The U.K. has a very different idea of what makes someone outwardly beautiful than Americans do.
With my dark features and olive skin, I truly felt like an alien in the north of England. I went to York where I was surrounded by tall, blonde, blue eyed beauties that American's would generally call the girl next door. People were looking at me to the point that Will (who is usually oblivious) noticed. I started to feel like I was some weird Kardashian extraterrestrial zoo animal and wanted to crawl back into the car. Of course, now I'm in London and all is not weird. It's quite happy and feels like home.
This is part of the many reasons I always say, we have to know we're beautiful. The beauty standards change all around the world. I think I'm lovely but someone else might find me strange. In the end, it's all bullshit. The magazines and the different narratives society sells us is never as beautiful as what we ourselves identify with. In fact, the above photo that you all may find funny, I find beautiful because that is genuinely me. That's the amount of glee and excitement I approach the world and the people in it with and that's better than being miserable on a magazine.