I look at her, as she twists her hair into a bun for the twentieth time in the last five minutes. I wouldn’t say she’s pretty. But she is something to look at. Her sharp jaws, her pointy nose, the dark silver make-up around her eyes, that straight hair that I crave… it’s things like those that I notice.
Then I look down at my hands. Three years ago, when I had enough of being a ‘little girl’ and decided I could finally act like a woman and have my hair waxed, I found out that some things came at a price. A lot more than you’d have to pay at the saloon. My skin was sensitive and several years later, the rash hasn’t faded yet.
I can see people looking up to my hands and saying, “Chickenpox?” and thinking, “Is that contagious?” And all I can do is smile and pretend like I’m okay with it.
And really, I am okay with it.
Until the next person comes and asks, “Chickenpox?”
I know, you think I’m plainly complaining. And the fact is, I am. Because everyday when I step outside my house, I begin comparing myself to the numerous others I see. I’m constantly living in the thought that someway, somehow I’m not worth it.
When the popular guy in class doesn’t look at me.
When I’m not easily befriended.
When I’m never selected for something I want.
… I tell myself, “You lack it.”
Sometimes ‘It’ is me not having straight hair. Or not being confident enough. It is having pimples and acne. It is being the third person on the bench who’s not spoken to. When guys don’t turn their heads to glance back at me, when your class teacher doesn’t know your name, when you’re either too fat or too short.. or in my case, both; ‘It’ is what makes you not worth it. Not worth of being anybody.
And I’m scared. Because people judge based on what they see.
So what if you’re not the perfect product? What if they don’t give you a chance to prove yourself?
When I went shopping with my mom, I saw these pants with tiny multi-colored hearts on it.
I purchased it. Immediately.
Note: I’m a practical person. I don’t wear hearts all over my bottoms and legs.
The thing is, I’m practical, because I don’t want people to get creeped out and stare at me, as they do when they see a goth. I think that sometimes going unnoticed is better than having too many eyes judging your derriere.
But! What the Hell! At some point, you are going to get judged. Even if that’s not correct. And just because people don’t think you’re ‘cool’ doesn’t mean something’s weird about you. You don’t have to change yourself. And most of all, you don’t have to blame yourself.
What do you get by lowering yourself in your own eyes.
If you don’t believe in yourself.
Because you’re always going to be too fat or too short. Your hair is going to be messy and frizzy. And there’ll be pimples spurting on your face by the minute. You might croak like a frog when you sing. And you will make a typo when you type. And believe me, tomorrow you’re bound to wear the most horrible selection of outfits.
Remembering outfits, few mornings ago, I wore my hearts pant. Pulled over a dark tee, and laced my neon colored trainers. I combed my hair into the most perfect pony tail I could, and stood across the mirror.
I wanna be perfect.
But I’m me!
I wanna be flawless.
But you see… Every little crack, every dent, every chip, every little mistake.
I wanna be perfect.
Just like you!
But there’s only so much, that this girl can do.
And when I look in the mirror… What I see… Makes sense to me.