Quotes About Self-image

Memories can be treacherous. We all have a hunger to rearrange our histories so as to remember ourselves in the most flattering light.

At thirty-four, she'd decided she'd grown out of sex. Bed was for sleep, especially for fat girls.

She was regarding her face in the mirror. She again had the allure that so captivated movie audiences. Gone were the ravages of last night's excess. Kevin had restored her face's artful mix of innocence and sex appeal. The sadness in her eyes was hers alone.

He is fat and pink. On the United Elevator Co. advertisements, they airbrush away the pocks in his cheeks, the red slivers in his nose. In person he is too flesh, a handful of raw meat. Dogs have been known to follow him, optimistic.

When I was seventeen I had a body that Adam woulda dropped Eve for. Hot-potato time. It was prime, no lie. Nothing in the wrong place. I had legs a hundred miles long and a booty to die for. Adam woulda said to Eve, Eve, I'm leaving you, honey, and Jesus himself woulda been in the background saying, Adam, you're one lucky motherfucker.

Vain trifles as they seem, clothes change our view of the world and the world's view of us.

Suppose the looking glass smashes, the image disappears, and the romantic figure with the green of forest depths all about it is there no longer, but only that shell of a person which is seen by other people - what an airless, shallow, bald, prominent world it becomes! A world not to be lived in. As we face each other in omnibuses and underground railways we are looking into the mirror that accounts for the vagueness, the gleam of glassiness, in our eyes.

Orlando curtseyed; she complied; she flattered the good man's humours as she would not have done had his neat breeches been a woman's skirts, and his braided coat a woman's satin bodice. Thus, there is much to support the view that it is clothes that wear us and not we them' we may make them take the mould of arm or breast, but they mould our hearts, our brains, our tongues to their liking.

Las mujeres han servido durante siglos como espejos dotados del mágico y delicioso poder de reflejar la figura del hombre duplicando su tamaño natural.

I catch your eye. I, who had been thinking myself so vast, a temple, a church, a whole universe, confined and capable of being everywhere on the verge of things and here too, am now nothing but what you see.

In the glass she wore an expression of tense melancholy, for she had come to the depressing conclusion, since the arrival of the Dalloways, that her face was not the face she wanted, and in all probability never would be.

Zira kad?n hakikat? söylemeye baÅŸlarsa, aynadaki suret küçülür durur; erkeÄŸin hayatla uyumu bozuluverir. Erkek kendini sabah iki kat daha büyük göremedikten sonra art?k nas?l kararlar verebilecek, nas?l yerlileri medenileÅŸtirebilecek, nas?l kanunlar ç?karabilecek, nas?l kitaplar yazabilecek, nas?l giyinip kuÅŸan?p ziyafetlerde ahkam kesebilecektir?

feeling herself suddenly shrivelled, aged, breastless

If a mother identifies with every fall of her child and takes personal pride in its every success, her self-image will be as unstable as her child's balance. She finds stability when she realizes that she is not her child, and watches it with love and interest—but as a separate being.

I don't have a problem with my body. I don't diet, and I'm not hiding anything. I'm not going to be the subject of a movie of the week 10 years from now.

Looking thirty, claiming forty, actually forty-five.

This is the postmodern desert inhabited by people who are, in effect, consuming themselves in the form of images and abstractions through which their desires, sense of identity, and memories are replicated and then sold back to them as products

I have to go around with my shirt open so that I have enough room for my chest.

Being female was so hard. Always having to rearrange yourself, to pluck yourself and whittle yourself and deprive yourself and inspect yourself in order to feel comfortable in this world.

A woman could be as beautiful as she felt herself to be.

But a pretty face is just a lucky accident. Pretty can't feed you. And you'll never be pretty enough for some people.

Except I do care about being pretty. Der. I don't think there's a single person in the world who doesn't care about being pretty. Any female, at any rate.

Were we all like that? Were we all trying to change how we looked on the outside to match how we felt on the inside? Were we all trying to change how people saw us?

oh my god, she couldn't help thinking. I have hairy legs and I'm going to die alone.