Quotes About Self-image

Up until now, her makeup and mini-skirt had served as a sort of armour. And ocne you fitted yourself out with armour like that it was hard to take off.

I know she's rather plain, but every girl has a right to conceal that fact from people who haven't seen her.

Perhaps I'll grow my beard, he thinks. It would save time. Only then, Hans would insist on committing another portrait against me.

The truth is that sometimes it is hard even for me to recognize the Hillary Clinton that other people see.

You think I'm weak.' 'You are weak,' I tell her. ''You're weak and pathetic and I-' 'I'm a mirror,' she shouts. 'I'm the mirror you don't want to look at.

You think I'm weak." "You are weak," I tell her. "You're weak and pathetic and I-" "I'm a mirror," she shouts. "I'm the mirror you don't want to look at.

The medication, the hormones and the relentless frustrations of our lives make us bitchy and you're not allowed to be bitchy in public or people won't like you.

If she packaged the perfect Facebook life, maybe she would start to believe it herself.

She didn't want to admit, even to herself, just how much the aging of her face really did genuinely depress her. She wanted to be above such superficial concerns. She wanted to be depressed about the state of the world, not the crumpling and creasing of her skin. Each time she saw evidence of the natural aging of her body, she felt irrationally ashamed, as if she weren't trying hard enough.

She sucked in her stomach, ready to take it like a man, or at least like a romance novelist capable of reading her own royalty statements.

It's kind of devastating." She paused. "And, Madeline, it infuriates me that I found it so devastating. It infuriates me that he had that power over me. I look in the mirror each day, and I think, 'I'm not overweight anymore,' but he's right, I'm still ugly. Intellectually I know I'm not ugly, I'm perfectly acceptable. But I feel ugly, because one man said it was so, and that made it so. It's pathetic.

she couldn't stand to look up another profile on that awful internet dating site and find another middle-aged, bald, chubby man staring smugly at her out of the computer screen, demanding a 'slim lady who takes care of herself, for snuggles and long walks along the beach'. Yes, she wanted this child to love her and approve of her and save her from snuggles with chubby, smug men.

Their carefully relaxed demeanors hid a fragile defensiveness, as if they expected to be criticized at any moment and they weren't going to stand for it. They both seemed to cling so hard to their chosen personalities. I am this sort of person and therefore I believe this, I think this, I do this and I am right, I'm right, I'm sure I'm right!

All that shiny love stuff doesn't seem relevant anymore. That's for other younger, thinner, happier people, and besides which, it's not actually possible for a dried apricot to shine.)

She'd noticed before how middle-aged women were obsessed with the topic of age, always laughing about it, moaning about it, going on and on about it, as if the process of aging were a tricky puzzle they were trying to solve. Why were they so mystified by it?

As man imagines himself to be, so shall he be, and he is that which he imagines." So said Paracelsus in the fifteenth century. The idea of the power of the mind is not new, ladies and gentlemen. Good morning.

And, Madeline, it infuriates me that I found it so devastating. It infuriates me that he had that power over me. I look in the mirror each day, and I think, I'm not overweight any more, but he's right, I'm still ugly. Intellectually I know I'm not ugly, I'm perfectly acceptable. But I feel ugly, because one man said it was so, and that made it so. It's pathetic.

Men often used that phrase: "drop some weight." They said it without shame or emotion, as if the weight were an object they could easily put down when they chose. Women said they needed to "lose weight," with their eyes down, as if the extra weight was part of them, a terrible sin they'd committed.

I have flushed out the feeling, of me being the shit. Cause I was leaving skid marks, on everywhere I sit.

I don't even have moderately big breasticles. They just look like - well, nevermind what they look like. At least they stay strapped down when I worm into a sports bra.

Never once does 'Snow White' herself look in the mirror so she isn't aware of her beauty or what apparently that does to people. It's really just the queen and the prince that talk about it.

squat there and think about how you get trained early on as a woman to perceive how others are perceiving you, at the great expense of what you yourself are feeling about them. Sometimes you mix the two up in a terrible tangle that's hard to unravel.

When you get dressed each day, look in the mirror and say, "I look great!" It doesn't matter if you're wearing a baggy dress and worn shoes. Pretend! Imagine how you would talk to others, do your work, and raise your children if you truly felt great about yourself. Then live out of that internal picture, acting "as if" those things were true.

Link Starbureiy and his handsome self.