Beauty, Status, and the Illusion of Worth

It’s been a while since I’ve written about anything. I’ve had so many reflections and thoughts come to my mind, but life just happens, and I can’t seem to find the time or motivation to do it. Today, though, I feel like I could write about so many things. My mind is buzzing. But I want to talk about beauty.

What is beauty to you? Is it the same as it is for me?

I have a gift (I think it’s a gift): I see beauty easily in nature, in urban surroundings, in people, in sounds, smells, and experiences.

I grew up in a culture where beauty is essential for survival, and not just any beauty, but quite a rigid standard: being slim, with certain parts of the body perfectly shaped and positioned; being white, tall, and blonde as the most desired features. There was no room for wide noses, flat bums, curly hair, or any hair that wasn’t straight. I come from a country where being “the most beautiful girl” in the country, or even in the universe, is considered the greatest achievement.

When I was young, my dad used to tell me he wanted me to be Miss Venezuela one day. For a while, I even thought I wanted it too, or at least thought I should want it. But I never felt beautiful enough, never felt perfect enough, never felt slim enough. Deep down, I knew entering a competition like that would only make me feel more insecure, not less. It wouldn’t be about celebrating myself or enjoying the moment; it would be about being picked apart, told to have surgery, and asked to change things about myself I hadn’t even thought of changing.

So I never did it. But those beauty standards still lived in my world, quietly shaping how I saw myself and how I judged others.

It breaks my heart to think how, from childhood, girls can feel ugly just because of the shape of their nose, the colour of their skin, or the texture of their hair. From a young age, the aim is to change yourself to fit in, to become some version of “Miss Venezuela.” That’s the culture I grew up in. I’m not sure if it’s still exactly the same today, but something tells me things haven’t changed much.

Despite having to leave my country due to the political and economic situation, leaving became a blessing for me, though I didn’t realise it until much later in my journey. The act of leaving the nest is not just about leaving parents or family; it’s also leaving behind the culture and beliefs that once kept you trapped.

It was only after a few years away from my country that I started to see all the beauty that exists in humans simply because of how diverse they are. I began to truly appreciate and admire how fulfilling it is to notice beauty everywhere I go. If you’re not from my country, it might be hard to understand, but even though we are warm and friendly people, our society can also be judgmental, close-minded, and constantly critical of how someone looks.

That’s why, when I turned on the TV in Ireland for the first time, I was shocked. I saw the news anchors and instantly thought, How can these people be on TV? They didn’t look like the perfectly polished journalists from Venezuela. I didn’t think about their skills, their voices, or their work. I judged them purely on their appearance. And realising that now is a little bit shocking.

Now, after many years, shaped by different experiences and cultures, I find it hard to comprehend how that was the first thing I noticed. But I know where it came from, and I don’t blame myself for who I was. Instead, I give myself credit for who I am now, a person who truly sees beauty everywhere, not just in looks, but in energies, smiles, gazes, movements, sounds, and essences.

One thing I’ve noticed recently, and that motivated me to write and reflect, is that as much as I see beauty in others, I also compare myself to younger, more interesting-looking people than me. Very quickly, I get a passing thought that they are better than me, and I wonder, How can someone notice me when there’s so much beauty around?

I know what you’re thinking: I’m mad in the face. Or maybe you’ve had those thoughts too. But here’s the twist, and what I remind myself with: I want to find a partner who loves me for who I am. Not for what I look like. Not for what I do. Not for what I can give. Just for being me. Simply me.

So why should being “more beautiful” matter? In truth, it has little value, especially if I compare myself to others, who are unique in their own ways. We can’t all be the same, can we? And that thought brings me back to earth, away from silly comparisons. The belief that I need to be beautiful and perfect is deeply rooted in me, and it’s hard to shake. But when I remember that beauty can be bought, made, stitched, I also remember this: the same is true for career success, wealth, or social status. Having them doesn’t always mean someone is a good or admirable person. Sometimes, they are achieved by stepping over others. Just like beauty, these things can be acquired without embodying kindness, integrity, or genuine value.

And that’s when I remind myself that what makes us unforgettable isn’t visible at all. It’s felt. It’s the warmth we carry, the energy we bring into a room, and the honesty we show when no one is watching.

That is the kind of beauty I want to build.