Beauty, in the objective sense, is something that not everyone holds. Or, at least, this is how I viewed beauty to be when I was younger and viewed things objectively. Some people in my class were cute and pretty and stunning. Others were awkward and pudgy and background-ish. And maybe if they weren't cute or pretty or stunning, they had cute or pretty or stunning talents. They could draw, write, run, jump, and be an all-star in the class in someway or somehow. In elementary school, this is how I viewed the world's social hierarchy and I sat promptly at the bottom. Or close to.
I was pudgy, awkward, loud, and found my way into social circles as the clown. I could draw, but I was never "the drawer." I could write, but I was never "the writer." I could run and jump, but I was far from "the athlete." In understanding this, the objective little girl I was, I fairly placed myself as a bottom-of-the-barrel kid. Sure I was friendly and I had friends, but since I was so low on the totem pole, I knew they were only friends out of pity. Or maybe because I offered them my cookies from my lunch.
I wasn't pretty. I knew this. I was a fair and objective young lady, wasn't I? I knew my place. And if I wasn't pretty, than why put effort into style? Why put effort into how I did my hair or how I wore my shirts? Skirts or dresses? Never. Pants and t-shirts are all I need. There's nothing to show off, after all. Granted, I was never "girlie" growing up and I still have trouble finding my inner-femininity at times because I'm truly more of a tom-boy type. However, I was convinced I couldn't be girlie. It was simply impossible.
I'd love to say a specific time. A defining moment where this objective point of view started to go terribly south. But I can't seem to find it. Somewhere along the lines I adapted to the idea that I was never quite worth it. But I was okay with it. I shouldn't have been.
I'd go back and tell myself that I shouldn't be okay with it. That idea I adapted to was one without any backbone. That I was the only one parading around and advertising this point of view. I was the one who told myself, "Don't even try, you'd never make it," or "It makes sense, you're not worth it." I ignored my own talents, let them drown in my own sea of doubt and worthlessness.
But if I could, I'd go back and tell myself that, objectively, didn't matter. And even if it did, I'd still meet the standards. That life wasn't a measuring standard, that I wouldn't get kicked off the ride if I weren't "this tall." I missed out on a lot of rollercoasters because of this. Ones I would've loved to ride.
I'd tell myself to look past my own objectifying point of view and see how much potential I held. I'd show myself I was pretty worth it.
No dialogue, so sorry if this seems wordy and boring. But I felt dialogue didn't hold the effect I was looking for.
Hope anyone who's reading enjoyed,