It’s a word that used to keep me up at night throughout high school.
It’s a word that lingered in the back of my head when I saw magazines in the grocery store aisles, Instagram posts from the girls everyone adored in my classes, and each time I looked in the mirror. It’s a word that took different forms -- in questions, off the tongues of my peers, in songs.
“Am I pretty?” I wondered. Teenage Cassidy spent far too much time pondering this question -- and I have an answer for her. Yes, you are pretty. It took me years to come to this realization, but I could not be more proud to be this confident in my early twenties. Yes, I’m pretty -- and that is a fact unaffected by others’ opinions or what other girls may look like.
You see, when you like who you are and what you look like, you take power away from what anyone else says about you. Oh, you don’t like brown eyes? That’s fine. I like mine. They remind me of dark chocolate salted caramels. You prefer skinny girls? Cool, skinny girls are cute, but I’m proud of my wide hips and large butt. You don’t think I’m attractive? Good one. When I look in the mirror, I see a pretty girl. Others were far more critical of my appearance in high school than they are now, but I still remind myself that I invalidate what they think when I counteract it with my own thoughts. Yeah, I’m pretty.
What strikes me as most interesting, however, is that I feel prettiest when I’m not even looking in the mirror. I feel prettiest when I’m laughing hysterically with my friends, caring little about how boisterous I’m being. I feel prettiest when the tips of my fingers are sore from practicing ukulele or when my hands cramp because I’ve been writing. I feel prettiest when I wake long before the sun, walk a mile before seven in the morning to meet the other members in my internship program, and going to Lansing on Tuesdays and Thursdays to make a difference. I feel prettiest when I’m doing my best at whatever it is. I’m a believer in dedicating yourself wholeheartedly to every task, no matter how insignificant it may seem. I feel prettiest when I run my fingers through my hair.
Feeling confident is no walk to perfection, however. There are still times when I look in the mirror and over-analyze what I see. Have I gained weight there? Have I lost weight here? Sometimes, I see the dark circles under my eyes not as a testament to my hard work but a physical flaw. Sometimes my actions aren’t pretty, either. I can be overly confident, my temper is sometimes short, and my sarcastic tongue has not always served well in some situations. I’m flawed and occasionally a fool. My balance isn’t even close to good, so it’s common that I walk directly into things.
Yet I think confidence is can be your strongest asset as long as it is kept in check. I feel pretty not in my reflection, but in my actions. There’s power in liking who you are. In fact, I think it may just be one of the most rebellious acts. And I invite you to do the same.
