Identity

When I was in highschool I wore high heels four out of five days a week. Even my flip-flops were wedge-heeled. I started wearing makeup when I was in my early teens (my mom sold arbonne cosmetics so it was easy to access free blush and concealer). I never spent a lot of money on my appearance (I was born inherently frugal), but I gladly accepted my mom's hand-me-down lipsticks and quickly learned how to filter through a thrift store to find the hidden gems.

Now I am living out of a 17 kg backpack (about 25 lbs) that inlcudes all my belongings for one year. Everything in my bag was packed for its practicallity, not style. Makeup, stylish shoes and hair conditioner were luxuries that required space and money that I couldn't afford. In their place I have malaria pills, a first aid kit, two pairs of hiking sandles, 12 sets of contacts, a southeast asia on a shoestring guidbook and a small neutral colored wardrobe.

Catching sight of my reflection in train's window is odd. Without eyeliner and mascara my eyes blend into the rest of my face and my eyelashes appear transparent. Sometimes I catch a glimpse of myself wearing my blue jeans, thermal longsleeved shirt, hiking sandles with wool socks and hair in a frizzy disaray and hardly recognize myself. I see a vague similarity to a person I used to be, but I can't quite identify who the new face belongs to.

I rarely have felt attractive on this trip, but I constantly remind myself that isn't important. I'm on an adventure to learn about different cultures, experience life with diverse peoples and discover and accept the person I am becoming (or maybe meant to be?). I want to live at peace in the skin I was given, whether it is decorated or natural. By the end of this trip I hope to have a better understanding of what identifies me as me.