I’m not the kind of girl who can take a single selfie and post it on Instagram. I’m the kind of girl who takes twenty pictures in a row, decides that none of them are good enough, and then walks around feeling ugly for the rest of the day.
I’m not the kind of girl who can walk out of the house and face the entire world without putting on makeup, inserting my contacts, and doing my hair. I’m not the kind of girl who can wear sweatpants and a pajama shirt in front of complete strangers.
I’m not the kind of girl who is ever going to look in the mirror and be happy with her reflection.
I’m the kind of girl who cries out of frustration every time I get the wings of my liner wrong, every time my hair won’t curl in the way that I want it to. I’m the kind of girl who wants to smash the mirror to pieces every morning, because it keeps showing me someone I hate.
I’m the kind of girl who changes her hair color as often as possible, because I think new is better. Because I want to distance myself from my real self as much as possible.
I’m the kind of girl who hears compliments about how beautiful I look and brushes them off. I’ll smile, say thank you, and act like I appreciate the words — even though I don’t believe them. Even though I think the other person is just trying to be nice, that they are just saying what they think I want to hear.
I’m not the kind of girl who loves herself. Who wouldn’t change a thing about herself, even if she could.
I’m the kind of girl who compares herself to everyone she sees, even though I know it’s dangerous, even though I know it’s not right. But when I walk past a girl with thick lips and a skinny waist, I think: She isn’t famous, she doesn’t have a makeup artist, she isn’t photoshopped. So why does she look so much better than me?
I hate thinking like that. I hate being so insecure.
I wish I loved the way I looked. I wish I thought I was pretty. I wish I could take a picture without scrutinizing every feature on my face.
And, yes, there are days when I feel confident. When I catch myself in good lighting and feel sexy AF. When I think that anyone would be lucky to have me, that I’m someone worthwhile.
But then the next day, I’m right back at square one. I’m back to hating myself, to wondering how anyone could ever call me pretty.
I want to change this destructive way of thinking. I want to love the girl I see in the mirror.
And I’m trying. But it’s hard for me to see the beauty in myself, even though I can see the beauty in everyone else. Even though I know every girl I’ve ever met is goddamn gorgeous.