Off the top of my head I have to say that just being a human being should be enough. Young or old, small or tall, fat, skinny, ugly or pretty we are all worthwhile. But that really isn't the question is it? Why should I feel like I deserve to take time out of my day to pamper or take care of me?
I was pretty when I was younger. Very pretty. I learned that I could always fall back on that if I needed to. I learned that I didn't always need to be witty or well read- as long as I looked good. I also knew that it wasn't going to last forever. But taking care of myself- makeup, hair, clothes well then it was sort of a career choice. When I moved to management it was even more important. People (especially the public) listen to you more and do what you say if you look good and sound in charge.
My friends were very nice people, but thinking back, rather shallow. Looks meant a lot to us all as a group. We were rather vicious to others who didn't fit our standards or right and wrong- especially the men in my group. The standards that I had to meet during that time were rather high if I say so myself- and I had to work hard to meet them. I started to go out on my own more and to figure out what I wanted. And I came to conclusion that I really didn't want all of that pressure to be perfect and on trend at every moment. I didn't feel inadequate- but unfulfilled.
When I left and moved up here I broke free of the more shallow life I had before. It's hard to be dressed up in the middle of the woods. Even if I wanted to- there is no where in a 60 miles radius to get a hundred dollar hair cut. There are no cosmetics counters where I live, no Sephora, no department stores within 60 miles. Besides, with everything going on in my new life- the accident, health, baby, new husband- I had too much to worry about and deal with then hem lengths or makeup.
I was raised not to spend time ( or much money) on makeup or clothes. My mother is the queen of flip flops and stretch pants. It suits her life and that's great. My Dad just tries to find clothes that fit because he is freakishly tall. My brother really, truly doesn't care what anyone thinks of him. He needs no one. His life is his own and he will do as he pleases and don't get in his way. I am closer to his way of thinking.
When I say I don't care what people think of me from my appearance it's mostly true. I don't really care. I want to be seen as smart, competent, clean, well spoken and in charge. I would rather be seen as the mother you would trust with your kids than the MILF- but I don't waste time thinking about it. What I really want to do is be (and look) healthy. My style is my own- and I think I am finally getting to a point where my style and it's function are working for me. Well, except the shoes- but I am working on those as we speak.
What makes me think that I am worth putting effort in how I look? Well, because it's me and I happen to like me . I only have one life and it's now. I want my skin to look good, my clothes to fit and look nice , my hair to be clean and flattering to my face. I try to make sure my hair is colored, my rosacea is concealed, my eyes have mascara on them, and I do it for me, not who I see on a daily basis.