1. a complete change of physical form or substance, as by magic or witchcraft: “The metamorphosis was so complete that my closest friends barely recognized me.”
2. a striking change in appearance, character, or circumstances; ‘the metamorphosis of the old house into something new and exciting’
3. (as in biology) a change in the form and often habits of an animal after the embryonic stage during normal development, as the transformation of a caterpillar into a butterfly or a tadpole into a frog
4. (as in pathology) a usually degenerative change in the structure of a particular body tissue
Yes please, I’ll take two. Especially the kind that happens instantly like magic. Yes, yes, that’s how I want it. Movie montage style.
Metamorphosis was the word of the day on a website that I go to daily for inspiring quotes and definitions. It got me thinking about how so much of my life has been spent waiting to transform into the version of me that I’d finally deem good enough. I’d finally be thin enough and pretty enough and smart enough to deserve my own love and respect.
Man, that’s pretty screwed up.
Screwed up but sadly normal I think.
I know I’m not the only woman who has had a sordid past with self esteem. It’s a slippery little bugger and it always seems that as soon as I wrap my hands around it, some new standard that I can’t possibly live up to comes along and wrestles it from my hands. The truth is, and by truth I mean my oh so humble and somewhat conspiracy laden opinion, that we’re bred into this culture that tells us we can’t possibly be good enough naturally, but there’s salvation and confidence out there to be had, for only three monthly installments of $39.99.
I spent so much of my life just knowing that when I was a certain version of myself I would finally be happy and confident and would totally love me. Ugh, I hate that version of me. Honestly, somewhere along the way I gave up. I just didn’t have the energy to hate myself anymore. I had to resolve myself to the fact that I would probably never walk down the runway at the Victoria’s Secret runway show, but while that is sad, I still had a pretty amazing person to be and I might as well focus on being her. And when I did that, I became happy and confident and loved myself. It’s strange how that happens.
So what now? I had the big transformation, and you know what? I still have issues. There will always be insecurities to be battled. I still have to pay taxes. Unicorns are not real. The real world is in fact somewhat of a bummer in that sense. I guess I know now that if I woke up tomorrow morning and looked like Adriana Lima I would infact still have problems. So, maybe the metamorphosis that we really want can’t be bought. Maybe the real movie magic is when we’re just too tired of trying to be someone else and we all just give up and be the selves we actually are. I’m on this constant mission to be the best version of me I can be, which is somehow different than trying to be “perfect”; I think it comes from a different place, a place of loving yourself instead of judging yourself.
I may be a work in progress but there is no metamorphasis necessary.