The Best You
Be better than you were yesterday, a year ago, be better than before.
If you think this picture is beautiful, that's true, it is. But so are you.
The Background Info
I used to think low of myself, just like many others. Something along the line changed, that made me starve myself, doubt myself, bully myself all together. Perfection seemed real to me, but it's an illusion given by society of a way to be. A way to act, a way to look. As a young elementary school girl, kids bullied me almost all the time. Those kids called me names, things, called me ugly and judged the appearance of my body. The way to act was like you weren't an energetic, bubbly kid, but more like want to be Tumblr or Hollister girl. The way to look, according to those snobby, ignorant kids, was thin, petite, medium length or long hair. That's the most stupid thing to imagine, I know, especially when none of them or I were teens. Only age 11, starving myself, hurting myself, almost everyday was dreadful, that may sound ridiculous to others of the outside, but that's how it was.
I hated my appearance. So over the summer of 2012, you bet yourself I didn't eat in front of those kids, or sometimes I at least took one bite then gave it to others. I thought the way to look better was to wear fitted clothes, like tank tops with shorts or tank tops with skinny jeans. I usually left my hair alone, sometimes I had my hair professionally straightened. I would stay close to about three or four people, the other kids were not to be trusted with deep conversations. By deep conversations at the time, I mean about how we feel or how our day went, the topic with a large group always turned into talking badly of another kid, who was just in the group.
Those kids have called me bitch, fatass, or sometimes just fat, ugly. They said my clothes were ugly, but never to my face, because I didn't care about wearing that stupid California bear shirt that was like $20 or $30. Now that... that shirt... was ugly, it's just a pressed print grizzly bear on a black or white shirt. Those kids said I acted weird, I wasn't weird. Being happy, laughing, smiling, having energy isn't weird, that's normal. They said I smelt bad, sweat is a thing when you run around and play. Now I wore deodorant, the ones who said that most of them almost ALL of them were boys. They smelt bad sometimes, but they didn't hear from me about that, unless I felt like they needed to know.
They threw rocks at me before, they didn't stop because I stood up to them. I made them feel what it's like to be alone. They all planned it one day, they could've hit my head, and I could've died. One tried to beg for forgiveness, the others slowly apologized, and one who organized it from the beginning felt like he did nothing wrong.
Switching towns only about fifteen minutes away, I was still sad and terrified of being bullied all over again. I grew thick skin, I never let anyone try to physically hurt me, I used my voice more, and I would try my best to ignore people. Of course, my feelings were still hurt, because I was afraid of a repeat, that could've been much worse than elementary school. I starved myself over summer 2014 (seventh grade), because I thought I gained weight, and I didn't want people to call me names. I would harm myself in seventh grade, just a little so I could still wear shorts or short sleeves if I wanted.
I felt ugly a lot of the time, girls and some guys had their brows threaded, neatly done, mine we thick or full to say. I got them done, but not out of pressure, they were threaded for a wedding and I've never felt more beautiful, especially with a full beat of makeup. My word, I've never felt more beautiful or confident, ever.
Eighth grade, I didn't really feel ugly, because I had started to do my makeup, such as brows, face powder, and mascara. I started to harm myself more than ever, it was horrendous. I always had on leggings or jeans and long sleeves, I didn't care if it was 80 degrees my cuts were very visible. I made good, wholesome friends this time, finally, who uplifted me, they were my best friends and so kind. A kid knew about why I was so sad, and stalked me my whole middle school years then told people who know me or knew of me, the news of me spreaded quickly. I was ready to be free from life. I tried to off myself about 11 times.
I'm better now. I'm feeling okay now. I get sad sometimes, but out of stress of school and what job do I want. I did some therapy sessions myself, I got a notebook and would record my thoughts throughout high school. That may not be the solution for others, but that made me feel safe, rather than telling my family everything.
I know who I am. I know my worth. I am beautiful, regardless of what society dictates as beautiful. I know that people can't walk all over me and they know it too. I always look at myself in pictures and in the mirror, and i'm like, "wow I'm cute," not to be in my head, but I love hyping myself up now. Nobody can disrespect me in any way, without expecting to have a discussion about what they're trying to do. I am talented, I am loved, I am wanted, and so are you.