I have a new friend. She is smart, funny, down to earth, thoughtful, super-model gorgeous and completely insecure. Newly single, I will cut her some slack but after spending a few hours reassuring her of her beauty, I drew a few parallels between my own… need for reassurance that is.
I grew up hearing the words “what a pretty face”. This of course is what they tell fat girls when they are young. The underlying message to focus on your face because of course no one could love you for the horrible mess you are. This point was brought home in first grade when one of the beautiful little girls said to me that I should be grateful I was “so ugly” because there was hope for me to outgrow it. The second was more traumatic, this time on the last day of school picnic on my 15th year. My mom took a picture of me that day so I am never to forget what I was wearing or the excitement when a certain popular boy called me over and said “guess what (he likes me, he likes me I thought as I timidly walked towards him until he finished with)… YOU ARE FAT!” The other kids laughed, some threw trash while I tried to hold back the tears and laugh because that’s what us jolly fat girls do. It was horrible but it was also the motivation I needed to lose 47 pounds that summer only to return as cheerleader, voted a few years later as “flirtiest” and “most likely to succeed”.
I read once — but don’t ask me where — that studies were done on the affect of children (twins in particular) who were given the same compliment on a consistent basis. Some were told they were pretty, others smart, some athletic, musical and sadly some ugly, worthless or dumb. It’s as if someone simply checked a box not realizing the power of words and their ability to act as swords, daggers and pistols wounding our egos, aspirations and self-worth if we allow it. It has been a challenging lesson for me to learn the positives to outweigh the negative information and I admit at times passing by a group of people laughing I have to tell myself, they are just having fun not laughing at me as was perhaps once the case.
Getting back to my friend briefly, I completely sympathize with her vulnerable and unfamiliar status. As women, we sometimes validate ourselves through this partnering. We think that because someone chose us as the best, the brightest and the prettiest (for them) that they are going to love and care for us and make us feel special and safe until death do us part. The problem here is that if we are seeking this validation we are probably not giving it to ourselves. Just speaking on my own behalf, I couldn’t believe that someone as brilliant, young and talented as my ex husband would choose me but my insecurity was the beginning of our end and the boil that festered during the course of our time together. Out of insecurity I would put myself down hoping this passive aggressive method would win me a compliment but instead he learned to agree with me even making up names for my thighs, breasts and stomach. His words hurt, they still hurt and it still takes courage to pretend that I am okay and that I won’t be judged for my size 4 body.
Society constantly informs us of the perfection we are to attain. Use THIS and you will have the perfect smile, try THAT and you will look 10-years younger, go HERE and your life will be perfect and you will be loved. Our low self-esteem an advertisers target mark but what they forget so conveniently to market to you is the truth that regardless of how we look, we are all beautiful beings, worthy of love especially our own. Your appearance is borrowed anyway — or so I believe — but it is the ugly judgement, the belittling, the harsh words thrown around so carelessly that we must own until we are ready to forgive ourselves. Think about your best friend, your lover, a child and think of their crooken smile, the wrinkle near the eye, the mole in that place that only you may be aware. Perhaps each of these symbolize a flaw of imperfection something we were once made fun of and find unlovable in ourselves but perhaps that is the very flaw that made someone else adore you.
The point is it was me all along that believed I was nothing more than a “pretty face”. I didn’t listen when I was told I was capable or kind or a good friend. I further admit now that years have passed and people typically view me first as someone who has lived her dreams, experienced much and stands proudly before you as someone who has reinvented herself in a fearless, confident manner. I am no longer offended when people tell me I am smart but there is that surge from deep within when I know someone thinks I am pretty. I want to be pretty, I do but I know — like my friend — that regardless of how we once allowed anyone else to make us feel, it is how we feel about ourselves that matters and that confidence is the prettiest box of all.
