I am a simple, ordinary girl. I straighten my dark brown curly hair daily. I hide the dark circles under my eyes with concealer that isn't quite the right shade. I hardly ever wear earrings other than simple pearl studs. And yet, some call me beautiful.
When I was younger, I, like most everyone else, experienced what I call the "middle school awkward and chubby days." I wore no makeup, had an unfortunate overbite, and had a nice donut around my waist (I am convinced it was for support in the weekly dodgeball tournaments). I remember always going to school feeling unconfident because of my appearance. I didn't wear the right clothes from Aeropostale and my hair wasn't as straight as the other girls'. Yet, some called me beautiful.
At that time, people always used to tell my mom and I how beautiful of a person I was on the inside. No matter their intentions, I immediately took this comment the wrong way. Gee, I am inwardly beautiful? How am I on the outside? At that time, I really couldn't care less about how I looked on the inside. I was determined to fit in based on my physical appearance.
As most young teenage girls do, I began to look at myself as a toy at a store. I began to value myself based on the demand of the world around me. With my, well, challenged appearance, I was immediately worth less than the skinny blonde-headed girl with the Vera Bradley tote that sat next to me. She was the new and improved model that replaced boring old me. Kind of harsh, right?
Then, I began to value myself based on what I thought the boys my age wanted. I noticed that many of the girls in my class who had boyfriends walked and talked differently than me...that is, with confidence. To me, though, they were supermodels. I remember dressing up for school because the cutest boy in my grade, the one with the Justin Bieber hair, was in my class. I simply and helplessly wanted to impress the world around me. Some still told me that I was a beautiful soul.
In high school, things neither worsened nor improved. I was embarrassed about my health issues, my now out-of- fashion straightened hair, and American Eagle clearance items. Still, I tried to remain "in style." I spent ridiculous amounts of money on prom dresses, entered myself into a beauty pageant, and tried out for the cheerleading squad, all to be considered "beautiful." Some told me I was.
College came. I began to replace my weekly dresses with Nike shorts and oversized T-shirts, sprayed hair with ponytails, and new sandals with clay-dusted Chacos. I wore makeup a few times a week, and ate ice cream until I was practically as full as a Mayfield dairy cow itself. In comparison to the rest of the girls on campus, I was average. I wore the right clothes, and looked just casual enough that I still looked put-together.
Since my awkward days in middle school, the standard of beauty has changed drastically. When I was in sixth grade, everyone wanted to have straight hair, an Aeropostale henley tee, and jeans with holes in them. Now, wearing anything other than a baggy shirt with Greek letters on the pocket and Hunter rain boots with the perfectly messy bun is a travesty.
I have always been one who made it my goal to fit it. I can't tell you the amount of money I begged my parents to spend on fads that were over by the time I joined in (aka Crocs). I can't tell you the amount times I have cried getting ready for school because my hair wasn't "good enough." I can't tell you the pain I went through trying to make myself align with the expectations of beauty that society set out for me.
I am by no means perfect. I am a nineteen year old girl with unruly wavy hair, a "beauty mark" on my cheek, and the results of my Freshman 15 are still evident. I wear old T-shirts and Nike shorts every day. It takes me an hour to curl my hair. My makeup routine never changes. Before I leave for class every day, I look in the mirror and say to myself, "this is as good as it is going to get."
Yet, I'm happy. What I have realized as I have grown older is that I will never be everyone's first pick. I will never be the cutest, skinniest, or best dressed girl. I will never have the perfect curly hair or smoky eye that I see depicted by the media. I will never be able to see myself as perfect. But that's ok. As cheesy as it sounds, God made me exactly the way He wanted me to be. He made me in His image. He made me to be a Proverbs 31 woman. He made me to be exactly the person that my future husband is looking for. Those realizations in themselves are incredible.
To the girls like me who don't like something about themselves, you are neglecting to remember one thing. Not only did God make you the way you are, but I can almost guarantee that you are letting your "weaknesses" blind you from your "strengths." We all have things we wish we could change about ourselves, but we forget to consider the things we do like. For example, I like my eyes and my smile (thank you, braces). When I tried to come up with what I liked about myself, it took so much longer to decide on something. For so long, I have told myself that I was not worthy of being called "beautiful." I told myself that inner beauty was not enough, and that I had to change myself to fit society's standards.
We can't let our imperfections cloud our perfections. We can't lower ourselves to the standards of society. We can't convince ourselves that we are not enough. Here's my challenge for you. What do you like about yourself? What have others told you is beautiful about you? As we were all made fearfully and wonderfully, we all have incredible qualities within us. Find yours.
Never be afraid to tell yourself you are beautiful. Odds are, someone's told you before, and you just didn't believe them. It's time that you start listening.
When I was younger, I, like most everyone else, experienced what I call the "middle school awkward and chubby days." I wore no makeup, had an unfortunate overbite, and had a nice donut around my waist (I am convinced it was for support in the weekly dodgeball tournaments). I remember always going to school feeling unconfident because of my appearance. I didn't wear the right clothes from Aeropostale and my hair wasn't as straight as the other girls'. Yet, some called me beautiful.
At that time, people always used to tell my mom and I how beautiful of a person I was on the inside. No matter their intentions, I immediately took this comment the wrong way. Gee, I am inwardly beautiful? How am I on the outside? At that time, I really couldn't care less about how I looked on the inside. I was determined to fit in based on my physical appearance.
As most young teenage girls do, I began to look at myself as a toy at a store. I began to value myself based on the demand of the world around me. With my, well, challenged appearance, I was immediately worth less than the skinny blonde-headed girl with the Vera Bradley tote that sat next to me. She was the new and improved model that replaced boring old me. Kind of harsh, right?
Then, I began to value myself based on what I thought the boys my age wanted. I noticed that many of the girls in my class who had boyfriends walked and talked differently than me...that is, with confidence. To me, though, they were supermodels. I remember dressing up for school because the cutest boy in my grade, the one with the Justin Bieber hair, was in my class. I simply and helplessly wanted to impress the world around me. Some still told me that I was a beautiful soul.
In high school, things neither worsened nor improved. I was embarrassed about my health issues, my now out-of- fashion straightened hair, and American Eagle clearance items. Still, I tried to remain "in style." I spent ridiculous amounts of money on prom dresses, entered myself into a beauty pageant, and tried out for the cheerleading squad, all to be considered "beautiful." Some told me I was.
College came. I began to replace my weekly dresses with Nike shorts and oversized T-shirts, sprayed hair with ponytails, and new sandals with clay-dusted Chacos. I wore makeup a few times a week, and ate ice cream until I was practically as full as a Mayfield dairy cow itself. In comparison to the rest of the girls on campus, I was average. I wore the right clothes, and looked just casual enough that I still looked put-together.
Since my awkward days in middle school, the standard of beauty has changed drastically. When I was in sixth grade, everyone wanted to have straight hair, an Aeropostale henley tee, and jeans with holes in them. Now, wearing anything other than a baggy shirt with Greek letters on the pocket and Hunter rain boots with the perfectly messy bun is a travesty.
I have always been one who made it my goal to fit it. I can't tell you the amount of money I begged my parents to spend on fads that were over by the time I joined in (aka Crocs). I can't tell you the amount times I have cried getting ready for school because my hair wasn't "good enough." I can't tell you the pain I went through trying to make myself align with the expectations of beauty that society set out for me.
I am by no means perfect. I am a nineteen year old girl with unruly wavy hair, a "beauty mark" on my cheek, and the results of my Freshman 15 are still evident. I wear old T-shirts and Nike shorts every day. It takes me an hour to curl my hair. My makeup routine never changes. Before I leave for class every day, I look in the mirror and say to myself, "this is as good as it is going to get."
Yet, I'm happy. What I have realized as I have grown older is that I will never be everyone's first pick. I will never be the cutest, skinniest, or best dressed girl. I will never have the perfect curly hair or smoky eye that I see depicted by the media. I will never be able to see myself as perfect. But that's ok. As cheesy as it sounds, God made me exactly the way He wanted me to be. He made me in His image. He made me to be a Proverbs 31 woman. He made me to be exactly the person that my future husband is looking for. Those realizations in themselves are incredible.
To the girls like me who don't like something about themselves, you are neglecting to remember one thing. Not only did God make you the way you are, but I can almost guarantee that you are letting your "weaknesses" blind you from your "strengths." We all have things we wish we could change about ourselves, but we forget to consider the things we do like. For example, I like my eyes and my smile (thank you, braces). When I tried to come up with what I liked about myself, it took so much longer to decide on something. For so long, I have told myself that I was not worthy of being called "beautiful." I told myself that inner beauty was not enough, and that I had to change myself to fit society's standards.
We can't let our imperfections cloud our perfections. We can't lower ourselves to the standards of society. We can't convince ourselves that we are not enough. Here's my challenge for you. What do you like about yourself? What have others told you is beautiful about you? As we were all made fearfully and wonderfully, we all have incredible qualities within us. Find yours.
Never be afraid to tell yourself you are beautiful. Odds are, someone's told you before, and you just didn't believe them. It's time that you start listening.