‘Love is Not a Finite Resource’: Celebrating My Conceited Era, and Why You Should Too
By Mary Wurie
I’m in love with myself. Literally. I am the prettiest girl in the world. I watch my Instagram stories on repeat. I buy myself gifts. I’m simply obsessed with me.
Call me conceited, selfish, self-absorbed or all of the above, but it won’t change a thing. I’ve spent enough of my life hating who I am and trying to change that person. Whatever you have to say will never hurt me because I already got over the pain. I already got over the words that never broke my bones, but of course left bruises.
You’re not as pretty as your sister…
You’re not smart enough…
You’re too much…
You’re not enough…
You’re… you’re… you’re…
Your comments, thoughts and opinions on my body, my hair and my life don’t matter to me. Sorry, not sorry. I am not taking any more submissions. The deadline has passed; the feedback form has closed.
Why does society tell us it’s bad to love ourselves more than we love anyone else? Why is it wrong to put me first and give me all the things I’ve ever deserved? Being self-obsessed doesn’t mean you can’t still love and care about other people. Being nice to yourself doesn’t mean you are mean to anyone else. It just means that you are nice to yourself. Say that again. Internalise that. Scream it. Loving yourself does not have to be at the expense of other people!
Of course, there are people who love themselves and hurt others – but that’s not the same thing. I am not saying we shouldn’t be decent to others. I’m not telling you that narcissists are the epitome of self-love. I’m saying that self-love and being a loving person are not mutually exclusive realities.
Who even taught us that self-love and loving others is a zero-sum game? As femmes, women, and people who are AFAB, we are expected to be the caretaker, the loving presence for everyone else, the mother figure that holds the family together with their big heart. But these expectations never say anything about the mother themselves. They only say that we must sacrifice for others. Our partners. Our children. Our families.
I reject that. I rebuke that. I simply do not want that. I can live a life that works for me and for others, so why not?
And at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter how much love I give or do not give myself. Old white women will always give me dirty looks. White men will still call me too dark. Black men will still say I’m too skinny. Someone somewhere will call me ugly. Be racist to me. Be homophobic to me.
People were horrible when I hated every inch of my being and still are even now that I cherish every atom that joined together to create me. The symptoms are always the same; so I changed the diagnosis.
I’ll wear the cutest outfits in my closet every day. I’ll post a million selfies featuring yours truly. I’ll cancel plans to take care of myself. I’ll take myself out for a little treat. I’ll love myself and I won’t be shy about it. I will not regret it or feel bad.
We only have so long to spend on this Earth and I would rather enjoy, care for and uplift the vessel I inhabit while on it. You should do the same. Ru Paul always reminds the contestants, ‘If you can't love yourself, how in the hell you gonna love somebody else?’ If you can’t love yourself, how the hell are you supposed to enjoy this life? How the hell are you supposed to fully experience existing in a world that’s already so unkind?
Start today. Spend a little longer on your hair. Give yourself more time for your daily affirmations. Lay in the bath just a couple of minutes longer. Give yourself the same treatment you’d give the person you care about most.
Love is not a finite resource. It is an infinite power that grows the more you practice it. Loving myself was one of the hardest things I ever learned how to do, and it took years to fully grasp the entirety of what it actually means to fall in love with who I am. It’s not a one size fits all situation. It is a craft, an art that is elusive unless you give it the attention it deserves.
So again, I ask you: why not fall in love with yourself? It won’t hurt anyone else. I promise.
Mary is a too-sensitive millennial that loves sunlight, laughing too much and hugs. A West African queer woman born in the US, she is now based in London. Mary loves reading and plans to read a hundred books this year (again!).