I overheard a conversation in my commerce class this afternoon and it made me sad. These girls, who were obviously the furthest thing from ‘fat’ in the world, were complaining about how they need to lose weight. Dear teenagers (and everyone else) of the world:
We all have days where we wake up and feel so far from beautiful it’s not even funny. Days where we feel fat and have pimples and our hair won’t do what we want it to and our clothes don’t fit properly. Days where we just want to stay in bed and never face the world again. Days where we think we resemble something from a swamp, but it’s not true. It’s not. I know, hard to believe, right? I know I’ve struggled with the concept for well, just over sixteen years.
I’m not ‘pretty’. No guy would ever call me ‘hot’. Most days I look in the mirror and cringe at my reflection. I know I’m not fat, but every time I step on the scales I can’t help but recoil at the number. I’m not tall, but I’m not ‘cute’ short either. I’m just… average. In every sense of the word. And nobody loves average, do they?
But here’s the thing, while I’m avoiding the mirror for being so average, the girls I think are gorgeous are doing the exact same thing. Looking in the mirror and fixating on flaws the rest of us don’t even realise exist. Nothing is flawless, but it’s these so called flaws which make us who we are. Which make us unique. Which make us beautiful. Just think about it, if we all looked the same, the world would be a pretty boring place. Your freckles, your curves, your crazy hair… They’re what set you apart from everyone else.
I just wish everyone, myself included, would realise that no amount of starving/binging/cutting/hating is going to give you the body you so desperately desire. It’s as pointless as this:
No matter how hard that rhino runs, he’s never going to be a unicorn. Ever. Mainly because unicorns don’t exist, and neither do the images of perfection girls have in their heads. Created with inspiration from dreams and the media, they’re about as real as, and it pains me to say this, Harry Potter. As much as we obsess over him, he doesn’t exist, he hasn’t ever existed and he will never exist. Neither will this ‘perfect body’ the female population is so hard pressed to posses.
I’ve recently realised that no amount of hating myself is going to change myself. This is my body, the only one I’m ever going to get, and I’m stuck with it. I can either spend the rest of my life not being able to stand my reflection, or embrace it. I know I’m never going to be a supermodel, but I am going to be me. And to be happy with that is all I can ever hope for.
frangipani princess xoxo
ps. for an awesome campaign which is helping spread the word that everyone is beautiful, check out Operation Beautiful and get involved!