Fat. That’s what I was. Fat. My soft stomach hung disgustingly limp over my x-large jeans and my thighs meshed together into one when I sat. Not only was I fat, but I was ugly. Not the type of ugly people claim to be when they’re trying to be modest about their looks, but truly, undoubtedly ugly. My mousy brown hair always lay frizzy and unkempt, framing my pudgy, acne-infested cheeks. Two unsightly caterpillars framed my dull brown eyes which were hidden behind childish cartoon spectacles. A layer of gossamer hairs lined my upper lip, and my feet were always stumbling in ruddy tennis shoes. My everyday outfit of choice? More or less the same tired-looking uniform, stained cotton crew neck t-shirt devouring my already imposing body, an ill fitting pair of faded blue jeans exposing my fuzzy Christmas socks, and the black zip up hoodie I wore everyday. Washing it was never required.
As I grew older, I began to notice that I wasn’t like the other girls in appearance. All the girls had beautiful, svelte bodies of toned muscle. Their stomachs were flat as washboards and their voluptuous breasts made an alluring contrast to the thinness of the rest of their bodies. Long, lean limbs stretched for miles from their bodies, and dainty feet always dangled at the end. The girls had long, straight locks of golden thread that even Rapunzel would be jealous of, and soft doe eyes artistically enhanced with makeup. However, what I was most envious of wasn’t the bodies or appearance of the other girls. It was their clothes. On their perfect bodies they wore the latest styles of what I saw in fashion magazines. Knitted ponchos and Ugg boots, pleated mini skirts, skinny jeans, prairie skirts, plaid dresses, fancy pea coats… Not only did I long with my soul to have an attractive appearance, but having a beautiful wardrobe remained the one achievement I coveted the most.
However, one restraint held me back: the fear of judgment. My heart yearned to be that beautiful, fashionable girl whom everyone envied. I dreamed about winning best-dressed girl every night before I went to bed, and I prayed to God to make me beautiful- to give me a chance. However, all of the praying in the world couldn’t help me because I was too scared to take the chance. I was too afraid of my classmates judging me and ridiculing me for trying to become something out of nothing.
For years I let myself long to be the girl I dreamed of but did nothing about it. I remained the quiet, unseen, awkward, ugly girl I came to believe I was supposed to be. And then the summer before my eighth grade school year something in me finally snapped. I picked up my first issue of Seventeen Magazine, the ‘new school year new you’ issue. Seeing the inspirational success stories of the other girls made me realize I could be that success story, too. At that moment, I vowed to change myself. To become who I always wanted to be, but had been too scared to try.
Myself. That’s what I am. Myself. Four years of hiding behind insecurities, struggling with self-acceptance, dressing to please others, and doubting who I was… but I can honestly say all of that has shaped me into who I am today. Someone who isn’t afraid to stand up for what she believes and what she wants to wear. Someone who isn’t afraid to admit she’s not perfect and never will be. Someone who isn’t afraid to wear a dress, high heels, and red lipstick every day. Hiding behind nothing for so long made me finally realize that I only have one life to live and one person to be: myself. Nothing is unreachable; nothing is unattainable. As a young girl I never believed that someday I would have my own fashion blog. I never believed that I would study fashion merchandising in college. And I certainly never believed that I could learn to love myself.
I’m still far from ending my journey of being satisfied with myself. Most days I still wake up disliking this part or that part of my body, or looking in the mirror wishing I were some other girl. But then other days? I wake up knowing I wouldn’t change who I am for the world, and those days make all the struggles I’ve fought worthwhile.
As I grew older, I began to notice that I wasn’t like the other girls in appearance. All the girls had beautiful, svelte bodies of toned muscle. Their stomachs were flat as washboards and their voluptuous breasts made an alluring contrast to the thinness of the rest of their bodies. Long, lean limbs stretched for miles from their bodies, and dainty feet always dangled at the end. The girls had long, straight locks of golden thread that even Rapunzel would be jealous of, and soft doe eyes artistically enhanced with makeup. However, what I was most envious of wasn’t the bodies or appearance of the other girls. It was their clothes. On their perfect bodies they wore the latest styles of what I saw in fashion magazines. Knitted ponchos and Ugg boots, pleated mini skirts, skinny jeans, prairie skirts, plaid dresses, fancy pea coats… Not only did I long with my soul to have an attractive appearance, but having a beautiful wardrobe remained the one achievement I coveted the most.
However, one restraint held me back: the fear of judgment. My heart yearned to be that beautiful, fashionable girl whom everyone envied. I dreamed about winning best-dressed girl every night before I went to bed, and I prayed to God to make me beautiful- to give me a chance. However, all of the praying in the world couldn’t help me because I was too scared to take the chance. I was too afraid of my classmates judging me and ridiculing me for trying to become something out of nothing.
For years I let myself long to be the girl I dreamed of but did nothing about it. I remained the quiet, unseen, awkward, ugly girl I came to believe I was supposed to be. And then the summer before my eighth grade school year something in me finally snapped. I picked up my first issue of Seventeen Magazine, the ‘new school year new you’ issue. Seeing the inspirational success stories of the other girls made me realize I could be that success story, too. At that moment, I vowed to change myself. To become who I always wanted to be, but had been too scared to try.
Myself. That’s what I am. Myself. Four years of hiding behind insecurities, struggling with self-acceptance, dressing to please others, and doubting who I was… but I can honestly say all of that has shaped me into who I am today. Someone who isn’t afraid to stand up for what she believes and what she wants to wear. Someone who isn’t afraid to admit she’s not perfect and never will be. Someone who isn’t afraid to wear a dress, high heels, and red lipstick every day. Hiding behind nothing for so long made me finally realize that I only have one life to live and one person to be: myself. Nothing is unreachable; nothing is unattainable. As a young girl I never believed that someday I would have my own fashion blog. I never believed that I would study fashion merchandising in college. And I certainly never believed that I could learn to love myself.
I’m still far from ending my journey of being satisfied with myself. Most days I still wake up disliking this part or that part of my body, or looking in the mirror wishing I were some other girl. But then other days? I wake up knowing I wouldn’t change who I am for the world, and those days make all the struggles I’ve fought worthwhile.
*My application essay I submitted for the Fashion Institute of Technology*
With much love, Lauren.
