I’ve seen too many girls tear themselves apart because they felt they appeared unattractive. When I’m asked to judge a friend’s looks I give my honest opinion, which has worked thus far because I don’t actually know anyone who deserves to be called ugly outright. I never gratuitously say “You’re beautiful,” unless it’s true, either. That’s not the sort of message I advocate.
I went through this insecurity phase last year in which I became terribly jealous of all my gorgeous, pretty, talented, charismatic friends. I felt small and invisible. Eventually I moved past this, but I still feel somewhat small. There are some things you actually can’t change.
I had this fleeting thought the other day: “Someone needs to teach me how to be a girl.” I don’t know what to do with all my hair besides ponytails and buns and haphazard bobby pin placement. I have no idea if gold goes with silver. I have never worn earrings other than the ones I’ve had ever since I first had my ears pierced, and that was more than 10 years ago. How can you wear something other than a T shirt and jeans with minimal effort?
People like to tell me “You’re cute.” That’s fine and appreciated but becomes very old when I realize how few adjectives people have to offer me. There are greater things I aspire to be than cute, like “exquisite” or “lackadaisical.”
At the first funeral I ever attended I overheard my granduncle tell my aunt that I looked beautiful when I cried. He’s a douche and we don’t talk to him anymore.
I once read about a girl who couldn’t bear to hear people tell her that she was pretty all the time. It was not that she did not believe them, though. To her it indicated boys did not like her for her personality, or for who she was. That’s rough.
There are aspects of my physical appearance that sometimes bother me, but that has more to do with my innate perfectionist tendencies than crippled self-esteem. I have days when I wish I had this person’s flawless skin or another person’s nicer shaped lips. I have days when I want to hide under my hood or beneath a paper bag. I have days when I feel shitty but find out that my hair looks fabulous without even trying. There are days when I manage to wear something other than a T shirt and jeans. The best days of all, though, are when I can ignore the mirror and still feel absolutely stunning.