Yesterday I did my usual Wednesday video for the blog. Each week I post a “Let’s do this together” video, picking a theme I want to share. This week’s theme was “kindness”.
If you’ve been following me at all, you also know that I am sharing my authentic self.
Some days I have makeup on and I’m dressed well. Other days I don’t wear any makeup and I have my hair in a scrunchy.
The idea is to stop this nonsense on social media that we have to look or be a certain way. This is so prevalent that many women and men feel either pressure or somehow “less than” when they don’t measure up to everyone else.
So I let it all hang out, so to speak. At first I was scared to do it, but once I did, it was freeing. Now it’s easy and I don’t stress over it at all.
I knew that I could be setting myself up for criticism but until yesterday, I’ve experienced amazing support and cheers from all. Like I said, until yesterday.
In my video, I had no face makeup on and my hair in a towel. Honestly, I made the video when I had the time, which was when I was at my desk putting on some mascara for the day.
My face was red because on Monday, I visited my girlfriend and she did some needle abrasion on my skin. It’s a great way to “aerate” the skin and give it a chance to stimulate collagen.
I explained why my skin was red and then went on to talk about my experience with my train ride. I’d witnessed kindness from most of the people sandwiched in an overbooked train, and was proud of my fellow humans.
I got a lot of great comments and likes and views and then last night a new comment popped up. I can’t recall the exact words, because after I read it, I deleted it. Maybe I shouldn’t have.
The comment said something like; I thought you weren’t afraid of turning 60? You look terrible.
My initial reaction was, “Wow, thanks”. And like too many other times, I let it bother me for a bit. I wish I could say it didn’t bother me at all, but that’s not being honest. I was stunned at first, then angry. So I deleted the comment.
But a part of me wishes I hadn’t. The rebel in me wants to challenge the statement.
Why is taking care of oneself construed as fear? Why does it bother you that I have a red face? And why is a red face seen as “terrible”? Why would you be compelled to criticize?
But then I remembered trying to get someone to see a different point of view online is almost impossible. And I also know from experience that those kinds of comments are made to antagonize, instead of open up a true conversation.
So instead, my way to deal with it is to write about it.
What do you do to deal with criticism? What would you have done in my shoes?