Middle school is undeniably the worst time in any girl’s life. Discovering who you are isn’t made any easier by your supposed friends hating on your second hand jeans, or overhearing the cutest boy in your grade call you fat. I thought middle school was the worst thing that could ever happen to my self-confidence, that was true, until I got to college. I went to an all girls high school, which definitely had its advantages. I could get away with no make-up everyday, and we all wore the same plaid uniform skirt. Nobody came to class trying to make a fashion statement.
I came to American not knowing anyone, so the only person I thought I could rely on was myself. Welcome Week kept me so busy that I didn’t even have time to worry about anything. But soon into my second or third week of classes I started to compare myself to everyone around me. I was afraid to speak up in class because I felt like every other girl in class spoke more eloquently than me. I couldn’t help but sit in lectures and feel like the ugliest girl in the room. Every girl had flawless foundation and all of their outfits looked completely effortless. I felt like everyone I was surrounded by had their whole lives together, and there I was drowning in self-doubt. It was just like middle school all over again.
The first time someone made fun of my eyes I was in seventh grade. I wasn’t blessed with supermodel huge eyes. In fact, they were so small that I was embarrassed to take pictures because my eyes would squint shut. I tried hundreds of tricks to widen my eyes. I tried white eyeliner on my water line, tons of mascara, colored eye shadows, and going natural. Nothing made them any bigger. I didn’t start to appreciate my flaws until someone told me, “Mikala, I love your smile because it’s so big that your eyes have no choice but to close and make room for it.”
I remembered this and I started to look around at my new group of college friends, struck by how different we all were. In my group of friends there were short girls and tall girls, of all ethnic backgrounds, shapes and sizes, and all with very distinct features and fashion styles. Once I started to think about it, the only thing that we all had in common was that we were all beautiful. I also learned that we all held these perceived flaws about our appearances. So we took the Flawsome Challenge– encouraging each other to embrace these differences and celebrate them with positivity and promise to stop hating our bodies. I encourage you to share this article with your group of girlfriends, start dialogue about positive body images, and take the Flawsome challenge together.