Tough Skin

Pretty Perfect by BrazenBookaholic

Pretty Perfect

Perfection (n): the action or process of improving something until it is faultless

Perfection is such an incredibly complex word. So few know the true depth behind those three syllables, yet so many strive towards achieving that status. So many people stare at themselves in the mirror and analyze every part of themselves, picking at its blemishes and places they wished they could change.

If someone had asked me whether I'd had that mentality two months ago, I would have silently agreed.

It was the typical reason, really. Bullying. One of my very own best friends used subtle, spiteful words to tell me exactly where I stood in her eyes. "You're the DUFF of the group," she'd tell me, a mocking lilt to her tone. "You look a little like a chipmunk! It's cute, though." However, even an idiot could tell that she really didn't mean the last sentence.

I'd shamelessly stare at myself in the mirror for hours on end, sucking in my stomach and jutting out my lips. It's not even like I was a genuinely unattractive person, it's just that a lot of my friends carried themselves with more confidence than I did. The minute I felt like there was a possibility of me crumbling, I took it and felt myself fall apart.

Soon enough, I was on a spiraling staircase that only led you downhill. I began throwing up on purpose, the term for the stigma being bulimia. I became tired, sleepy, sluggish and deathly pale.

Even then, I wasn't satisfied. My best friend moved, eventually, and she got cut out of my life. Despite this, I still felt flawed. I'd lost a lot of weight very quickly, but my eyes had dark circles under them. My braces made my cheeks puff out. My body was awkward and lanky, and because I'd suddenly lost all that weight other parts of me became more prominent. Rather than finally embracing it and strutting around with pride, I became even more self-conscious.

Until one day, it hit me.

There were so many people who loved me for who I am. Everyone lives under the impression that the world is as shallow as a mini pool, so they try to be someone they're not. They fix their hair and cake themselves with layers of makeup to hide the trembling face behind. But that's the thing. Everyone's so fixated on their own imperfections that they tend to not even notice yours.

My friends said I was beautiful. My family said I was beautiful. Everyone who mattered to me thought I was beautiful, except one person.

Me.

So finally, I looked at myself in the mirror. I stared really long and hard. I wasn't perfect, and I knew that. I wasn't ever going to get signed into Victoria's Secret. I wasn't going to be that girl who was able to smile at someone passing by and have them melt to the ground because I was that hot.

But I was me. I was a girl who could be strong if I tried to ignore what everyone said. I knew that if I wanted to, I'd be able to see myself as who I was. Beauty as a concept would be so different if we could see what was on the inside rather than what was on the outside, wouldn't it?

People keep talking. If you're too thin, you're anorexic. If you're fat, you're obese.

There are so many faces staring back at you. There are so many people passing by, and so many different stories interlacing every one of them. People are so consumed in what others think of them that they don't stop and think about what they think about themselves.

You are who you are. Your genes sit there behind you, defining every little aspect from the length of your eyelashes to the streak of meanness in your soul. So many people worry about others not loving them. If we could just go ahead and love ourselves, how would everyone else even matter?

Believe it or not, it was just that simple. I moved into a healthier lifestyle, going to the gym everyday rather than spewing my guts out. I began eating healthier and started something small yet so effective: telling myself one thing that I loved about being me.

I like my smile.

I like my singing voice.

I like the way I understand people, and how I'm open to new people and new friends.

It's like the pushup theory. Do five pushups in one day, every day, and you'll start to see the effect on your overall stamina. Just like that, with every little aspect of myself that I realized I loved, I became I little happier. I began to shine a little brighter and laugh a little louder.

Sure, I wasn't the coolest or the smartest or the hottest or the funniest. I had my flaws and I had my own drawbacks.

But I loved myself. And to me, that was pretty perfect. 

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(Note from creator: thank you so much for sharing this piece with us and the freeyourbody community. I hope people feel inspired and enriched as they read this as I hope you felt when you wrote it.)