Why canāt I be beautiful like you?
You know, when I was 8 years old, I was talking to my friends and they told me that people were only allowed to marry people who had their same hair color. And, being 8, I didnāt see anything wrong with that. (My own parents have different colored hair, so I donāt know why I believed them.) My friends told me they were grateful not to be in my shoes because āwho would ever want to marry a redhead.ā
When I was 10, I was in a different school, and these two girls made it their goal in life to make my existence a living hell. At 10 years old, I hated everything about myself. The way I looked, the way I spoke, the way I dressed. It was never good enough for them and so it was never good enough for me.
When I was 13, my best friend got her first boyfriend. She was beautiful and blonde and a cheerleader and Iā¦. was none of those things. And when we were together, I hated that I was none of those things because nobody ever looked at me the way they looked at her.
In high school, I was the girl āfriendā, the one who was practically one of the bros. Not someone to look at in an admiring way. No one really looked at me like that.
I wasnāt that girl, ever, who got complimented on her looks. I was chubby, I wore masculine clothes, I was loud, and I always had the brightest hair in the room. So if people were looking, it wasnāt admiringly.
Which, for anyone, is really difficult to handle.
For 20 years of my life, all I ever wanted to be was invisible. I didnāt want people to look at me or notice me, because I never felt like I looked the way I wanted. I was coasting, at best. Hoping one day Iād work up the energy to lose weight, dress better, flirt more. Iād work up the energy to be the girl I always wanted to be.
Until this year, Iāve been a little bit foolish. Because I was waiting so long for something to happen. And when it never did, I felt like a failure.
And it took a really long time. It took a long time to realize that red hair was beautiful. It took a long time to realize that nobody ever feels truly confident in themselves and most people donāt even notice your weight like you do. It took me a long time to realize that I was running a race against myself. And I was losing.
I stopped running and trying so hard to be what they wanted and started thinking of ways to be what I wanted.
There is nothing wrong with my clothes. There is nothing wrong with my hair. There is nothing wrong with my weight.
I didnāt HAVE to be losing.
So you compliment me like this; you say āI wish I could be beautiful like you,ā and I flash back 12 years and I hear those first hurtful words. And I wonder if weāre thinking of the same person. And I wonder if you would really want to endure what I had to in order to be here. To be okay with this.
And not just okay. Really, truly happy.
You are on a path that belongs to you. And itās not a racetrack. Youāre not facing off in some competition of life next to someone you consider more beautiful. Youāre racing yourself, and I promise you wonāt ever win the way you want to.
Take a second, realize where you are, make improvements that YOU want to make. Be the kind of person who is good and happy and kind and loving, and people will see how beautiful you are.
And, more importantly, so will you.
You are beautiful. Youāre already there. The only person who needs to realize that now is you.
I wish someone had told me that when I was growing up.
I wonder what kind of person I would have been if they had.
But then again, maybe Iām happier being the person I am now, struggles and heartache and all.
(Iām posting these pictures because itās meā¦ put together, smiling, happy. And also a major dork who canāt eat sāmores very well. But theyāre all still me. All still good. All still beautiful, in whatever way I want that to mean. And I think thatās pretty wonderful.)
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