I have a tummy and muffin top. I have thick thighs that rub together. I have a small, crooked chin and small mouth. I have a slight double chin and permanent baby face. My narrow shoulders and big chest make finding shirts that fit properly impossible. My big calf muscles and small ankles cause skinny jeans to look awkward on me. My voice sounds like a 10-year-old’s. My knuckles are covered in calluses from an unbroken childhood habit. My allergies blessed me permanent undereye circles. I stammer constantly when I talk. I can’t draw or do basic math in my head. I talk really fast. I lose track of conversations. Basically, I am a deeply flawed human being.
The early 2000s were comprised of body glitter and bad teen romantic comedies starring Chad Michael Murray. I remember watching A Cinderella Story for the first time and finding Hilary Duff’s character a little too relatable. My aesthetic goal was to be the “she’s not like other girls” girl. But being the awkward, socially anxious, and nerdy child, trying to get a boyfriend in 7th grade was the middle school equivalent of climbing Mount Everest. Friends talked about me behind my back constantly. And I thought I deserved everything they were saying.
“You’re ugly and annoying, I will never like you,” said a boy I had a painfully obvious crush on in middle school.
“Sidney, I can’t hang out with you anymore because I think you have mental problems,” said a girl I thought was my friend.
“You’re annoying,” said quite a few people throughout my lifetime.
“Don’t you think you’re a little fat to be doing this?” said a girl I used to skate with.
I carried these toxic thoughts on my back for years. The higher they stacked, the farther I fell into the hole. Soon the limited opinions of a few mean people dictated how I presented myself to everyone else. Every girl around seemed to be the perfect package: nice hair, perfectly proportioned bodies, smart, funny...it was like they stepped out of a 2000s teen movie. All I wished for was to be like them.
No matter how many friends I made, there was a small voice situated in the back of mind mind telling me, “They’re just being nice. They actually secretly hate you. Stop annoying them before you embarrass yourself.” Because of the part of me that perpetually hated myself, I lost friendships and lost touch with who I am.
But I have big brown eyes and long eyelashes. I have a cute nose. I have nice hips. I always hold the door open for people. If a stranger says hi to me I always greet them back. I’m a pretty awesome cook. Many of the jokes I crack generate a smile out of people. I have thick eyebrows that look perfect when I fill them in. I have thick hair that can be inconvenient, but always gets compliments from people. I give amazing, personalized Christmas and birthday gifts. The parts of myself I love were overshadowed by the flaws I always thought people picked out.
In order to grow, we have to experience the good and the bad. We are only as great as the sum of our parts. If you’re struggling to understand who you are, it’s okay. Maybe you’re like I was and think you’re only comprised of everything no one likes. Unfortunately, we live in a world where self-love and self-loathing are deeply frowned upon.
Remember to love yourself. It’s not vain, it’s not selfish, it’s not impossible. Validation from another person might seem like the end-all-be-all of self-acceptance--it’s not. So, take that selfie and post it on Instagram when your makeup looks killer. Or, compliment yourself when you get an A on that test. Buy that shirt if you like it. Start caring your yourself now, because one day, you’ll learn to appreciate your own special life.
