We Were Not Born to Look Like Glass

I have always had an obsession with the idea of human excellence. I find it fascinating that we’ve spent thousands upon thousands of years striving for perfection, whether that be through art, beauty, competition, or even food. The need for perfection seems insatiable, things always needing to be improved, rethought, rearranged so that they can come just a little closer to that thing called ‘perfection.’

You could argue ‘perfection’ has been under attack in recent years, in an era of self-love and mental health awareness, culturally we seem to be shifting away from perfection and towards embracing our (so-called) ‘imperfections’. 

Well, some days. Other days we accept images, songs, videos, people, and items wholeheartedly, rarely considering the hours of meticulous research, editing, and countless other processes needed before these things you name ‘perfect’ arrive before your eyes. 

To me, perfection may be Billy Joel’s ‘Vienna’. To my friend, Thea, it’s the moment the trumpets come in on Harry Styles’ ‘Fine Line’. To my brother, it’s Wayne Rooney’s 2011 overhead kick against Manchester City. To my friend, Sarah, it’s the opening of ‘Dancing Queen’ in ‘Mamma Mia Here We Go Again!’. Perfection is defined by you, for you and therefore it is something so individual and so indescribable, it is impossible to consider anything universally ‘perfect’ (groundbreaking, I know).

When it comes to something as simple as our skin, we are told through adverts and media that skin must be glowing but not greasy, we must have blushing cheeks but no redness, we must have no spots or blemishes and if we do we should cover them up, the texture must be plump and soft, without scarring or visible under-eye bags. Not only must we maintain these standards in our youth, but we must prevent aging at all costs. 

Look younger, look airbrushed, look flawless, look glowing, look like glass. We all, especially women, know these adverts and this language all too well. Leading us to, ultimately, spend a little too much money and far too much time thinking about that one spot on our chin, or the blackheads on our nose. But, unlike the Instagram adverts and billboards suggest, we were not born to look like glass. 

Glass is fragile and transparent, it lacks story or life, shattering too easily, and is manufactured for purpose. It is born out of fire and destruction. Glass is invisible. Its purpose is to be invisible. Your skin is not glass. 

Your skin lives and breathes, it protects you, heals you, holds an infinite number of stories from the acne scars on your cheeks to the wrinkles on your forehead. It is a constantly evolving landscape more beautiful than any painting. I’m no scientist or skincare expert so can’t exactly explain to you the purpose of pores or dead skin cells or the flush of pink in your cheeks. But then again, we shouldn’t have to be defending the natural processes of our skin. Yes, we should look after our skin and care for it, but despite what the media may tell us over and over again, we shouldn’t aspire to resemble glass or any other glossy, lifeless surface. We shouldn’t aspire to be cold, invisible, lifeless.

According to the ancient Romans, breaking a mirror brings seven years of bad luck as every seven years life renews itself and any broken parts of your life will be fixed. The damage done is therefore never permanent and, according to this legend, there is always an opportunity for a fresh start. A clean slate. Your skin is much more powerful than the broken mirrors of Roman legend. The ‘imperfections’ you observe and obsess over now may be gone tomorrow, or maybe they will be there for longer. Either way, your skin remains full of life. It is not the blank clean slate the Romans looked forward to or the broken glass they believed brought them bad luck. It is skin, your skin, and it is beautiful.

I am not suggesting we all commit to blind self-love or throw away all of our skincare products at once (I’m too attached to my oils, toners, and moisturizers for that). I’m just reminding you that skin is skin. It is not glass and it is not supposed to be. Some days I’ll of course still make comments to try and justify the spots, redness, or texture: ‘I’m eating so badly at the moment,’ ‘It’s because I didn’t get enough sleep,’ ‘I’ve been using this new oil and I’m not sure it’s working.’ Some days I wish that Roman legend was true and that every so often my skin could be wiped clean for a fresh start. Some days, my skin will determine too much of my self-worth. 

I don’t doubt we’ll continue to spend the next millennia striving for perfection and human excellence as I’m sure that we’ll forever have an insatiable need to discover and curate beauty. But for today, at this moment, appreciate the dynamic landscape of your skin and the unique beauty of it. Appreciate its curves and lines, its texture and tones, its strength, and ultimately, be thankful your skin is not glass, be thankful that it is so much more than that.