I often find myself pulling at the fat on my stomach, arms, or thighs. Tracing over the stretch marks on my body, crying at my skin for breaking out, playing with my hair trying to make it better. I don’t feel pretty ninety percent of the time. I thought the self-consciousness would stop when I got to college, that every thought I had comparing myself to someone or over-analyzing every flaw I have until I refuse to leave my room would suddenly go away. Sure there are times when I really do like the way I look, but as quick as that confidence comes, it disappears again. I start second guessing what I’m wearing and how my hair and makeup looks. I grew up in southern California with tiny blonde girls who played soccer. They didn’t have a unibrow, hair on their arms, or thighs that touched. All the girls that boys liked didn’t look like me. From a very young age, I felt ugly. Honestly, I feel ugly most of the time. It’s hard to feel good about myself when all I do is pick myself apart. In this era of body positivity and promotion of self love, I’ve never felt worse.
Up until a few months ago, I used to stand in front of a mirror and judge these things until I was defeated enough to stay in my dorm. I want to be easy to look at. I want people to think I’m pretty. I understand how pathetic that sounds, it’s just as pathetic as I feel. I never saw anything wrong with this either, I rationalized it. Everyone is self-conscious. Doesn’t everyone pick themselves apart? I didn’t realize what a big problem this way of thinking was until a friend of mine made a comment about how I came off so sure of myself. How proud she was of me for gaining some confidence in myself. At that very moment I felt worse about myself, how could I be proud of what I look like? This thought scared me so much that I decided that it was time to try and like myself.
I am starting to learn how to confront these thoughts. Maybe this isn’t the healthiest way of going about it, but it works for me. I start by listing everything I do like about myself no matter how small it is: the freckles on my shoulders, when my nails are long and fake, if my skin is tan or my eyebrows dark. Tiny details add up until I’m in a better mood, until I have a small amount of self-acceptance to get myself away from the mirror. I do want a better relationship with myself, but right now, I have no idea what that will look like. I don’t know how I will get to the point where I am a hundred percent comfortable with what I look like, but I know that for mental health and future relationships this is something that has to happen.
