"Righting the Wrong"
I've been active on Facebook since I was thirteen years old. Naturally, I posted pictures and statuses like everyone else. At the time, it didn't seem like something to be embarrassed about. With every year that has gone by since, I hate my old profile more and more. Why? I hate the way I look. Not because I was exceptionally "ugly," but because this is what people told me. People's opinions of what I should have looked like transferred over to social media, and it made me paranoid. Not only was I constantly reminded in person by boys my age that I was not pretty enough for them, I now had a new platform to risk people judging me. This first picture is from eighth grade:
This is a confident person. I was happy with the way I looked and didn't care what anyone said about it. During high school and especially during my relationship, that changed completely. I was reminded day to day by someone I loved dearly of things I needed to change about myself. "I could tell you waxed your mustache." "Try not to wear your hair like that." "Ever thought about getting a boob job?" These things were bad enough, but what made it worse was the fact that every insecurity was blatantly obvious in the way I acted on social media. Here is a picture from during my relationship when I really struggled with my self-image. Notice a difference?
Instagram and the Total Remake
Not only was my self-image total crap, I flat-out hated myself as a person, too. Nothing I did was enough for anyone in my mind. I was conditioned to expect that everyone thought the same terrible things about me as I did. It was the way I grew up, and the way future relationships convinced me to think. It made me think that myself as a person was something I needed to correct, not value. So, over the years, I remade myself on social media. Pictures of me smiling (like the first) were few and far between, while pictures like the second became the norm. Why? "You should whiten your teeth." "Your teeth are a little crooked." "Why do you look Asian when you smile?" Oh, right, that's why. After that, I started molding myself in the image of what guys saw as "sexy." I'd just gotten out of a terrible relationship, and my pride was already in the sh***er. The only method of making myself feel better had to be making other people see me the way they'd always wanted me to look. This is the first picture on social media that ever warranted me comments about being "hot."
The Thought Process Now
I can't do this. I've been taking pictures for twenty minutes, and this is all I can come up with?! My eyebrows look terrible; I haven't done them in weeks. Does my hair look greasy? It needs to be cut. My lips are too light, and the light only makes one side of my face look good. Is that because you can't see me as much? Probably. Has my nose always been that big? Is this pose too suggestive. Oh my God, you can see my head phones in this; that's going to make me look like an idiot! One side of my eyeshadow isn't blended, should I edit that out? My nails don't even look long enough. Does the shirt make me look too fat? Whatever. I'll delete it if no one likes it on Instagram.
Even though I hated this picture, the positive feedback made me want to not only keep it up, but make it my profile picture. I would've never done this if no one had said anything at all.
I'm different looking now, everyone. I've done all that I can to adhere to strict feminine beauty laws and make myself as pretty as I can. I've suppressed my own opinions of my appearance to please other people. I never wanted to be "sexy," but that was what people wanted from me. So I did it. And you know what? I'm still not done. I find everything there is to find that I can nitpick about myself. I tear myself apart so no one else has the chance. I spend time torturing myself taking pictures for however long I can keep my arm steady, then edit them to trick myself into thinking that ghost of myself in the mirror isn't actually me.
I have just one question for those who criticized me, convincing me to change: Are you happy now? Because I am not.
