She looks at you in that superior and almost mysterious way. Her skin is flawless, cheekbones perfectly defined, all her features gorgeously outlined. She turns and her luscious, luminous hair gently glides through the air. She is our perception of beauty. We see her every day in magazines, on billboards, while watching TV. The more we see her, the harder it is to appreciate ourselves for who we are. For what we look like. For how we act. The way we live. What’s so tough to realize is just how many hours she spent in a studio that day, having people turn her into something she wasn’t. It’s time to start realizing that there’s no such thing as perfect.

All over media, we teenagers are targeted with ads for beauty products, constantly pelted with: “You’ll be popular if you use this,” “The best athletes use that,” and “Yours isn’t good enough; buy ours!” Especially makeup. Close-ups of people, friends having fun, exaggeration… every marketing strategy boils down to the same thing: You want to be like them. They are the ideal human. The truth is, though, that there is no ideal human. From how our skin should look to how our bodies should be shaped, every standard of “perfection” is an unrealistic and unattainable one. Trying to reach these standards set by society will only ever prevent us from being who we really are.

This past weekend, I put on mascara for the first time at my cousin’s wedding. After the ceremony, my other cousins and I went to collect shells on the beach, but before I knew it, my makeup was smudged, and I had to interrupt our fun to go inside and take it off. Why did I even bother? I thought to myself.  It’s funny how just a touch of makeup can be such a heavy load.

After being here for this long, I think I might have just put my finger on beauty. Beauty is the trees blossoming in spring, a cat sitting on your lap, a hot cup of tea on a frosty night. Beauty is diving into the waves of the ocean, laughing with friends, celebrating life. Beauty is joy, sorrow, and hope. Beauty is a place that you call home. Something that you can’t make up.