No one ever tells you that self-esteem issues don't disappear into oblivion once you hit a certain age; most would assume those plagued by low self esteem usually leave it behind once they graduate their teen years, or at the very latest, their early twenties. I know that a lot of people in today's world struggle from self esteem issues, including myself. How can you not? Especially if you are a woman. Everywhere you look, you're surrounded by media idolizing beautiful people, some born with their good looks as a result of genetics, and others who have made themselves "beautiful" with the help of cosmetic surgery (ex. Kim Kardashian, Lana Del Ray, Kylie Jenner, Megan Fox (I mean, she was pretty beautiful before... but come on now.. those lips are not hers). It's hard to feel confident when you're constantly told by society what constitutes beauty and what defines beauty and you find you may not have those specific qualifications. We are raised with parents, care-givers, teachers, and mentors stressing to us time and time again "it's what is on the inside that counts," but once we hit the real world, we know that is bullshit. I mean, what is on the inside is what actually
matters, and it is what truly defines who we actually are, but to say that looks can be overlooked, is a lie.
Living in NYC for the past few years, it has become only more concrete that looks can get you anywhere in this life (granted you have half a brain cell and aren't completely abhorrent to be around). Models and attractive women get the most sought after jobs... you can be a bottle server at 1oak making bank every night if you are tall, thin, and have a good face. You may be very personable and fun, but if you are short, chubby, and/or don't have perfect features, you won't be getting a job as a bottle server at 1oak making $600+ a night. With the influx of social media monopolizing more and more of our free time, it is also apparent what the rest of society and more specifically, if you are a straight woman, what
men find desirable.
The ideal woman is thin, with curves in the right places (tiny waist, hips, nice butt, and maybe boobs... although here in NYC, men like skeletal types with aa cups because that signifies model status). We see girls who are "instagram models" or insta-famous... they have thousands of followers and post selfies featuring their tight bodies on the beach, their pouty lips that may or may not be a result of injectible fillers, and their sculpted abs and Brazilian beach bums. We can't help but take a hit in the good ol' self esteem every time the man we like or our boyfriend starts following such a perfect (possibly photo=shopped) creature or likes one of her photos. We can't help but measure ourselves against the rest of the photo-shopped masses of women on social media, in magazine, on tv, on the radio, or the real life beauties at the club every time our boyfriend takes a second glance at one of them or every time you see a dude you think is attractive sidling up next to a woman who seems cosmetically perfect on the outside.
We tell ourselves that it's ok, because we are so much more than just our exterior appearance. We are smart, we are fun, we are funny, we know how to cook and will actually
eat the food we cook with you (because unlike those anorexic model types we actually
do eat), we have talents, and we are attractive in our own, unique ways. No matter how much we tell ourselves though, we all have underlying insecurity about parts of ourselves.. guys and girls alike. We may or may not talk about it, but you best believe that in certain moments, we feel more insecure than others about said parts.
We live in a country that tells us to "love ourselves" and to "accept and embrace beauty of all forms," yet we are constantly fed images of photo-shopped, genetically perfect people. We fear getting older, getting wrinkles, gaining weight, losing our youth and beauty, because despite the Dove "love yourself" campaigns, we all know the girls being featured on billboards and being idolized by men and women are alike are all tall, thin, and beautiful.
We start off with all of the self confidence in the world- we are born narcissistic and loving ourselves; we think we are the greatest and the center of the universe. As we get older and more aware and start listening to the world around us, we lose faith in ourselves, comparing and contrasting ourselves to our peers, taking note of what the world around us says and defines as good-looking. Unless you're really fricking cute or genetically bless, the adolescent stage chips away at the ol' self esteem block once you enter puberty and start looking awkward as fuck. I've posted this pic before, and I'll post it again... but this was me as a child:
Did I think of myself as being hideous? No... because I had a lot of friends and teachers loved me because I was an exemplary student. I was smart, I was good at art, and I was nice, so I never really thought about my looks when I was 7 or 8. I started self-hating when I hit middle school and everyone else had straight, silky hair and button noses, I still hadn't grown into my nose and had a wild fro of red hair that could never be tamed. Other girls got tan, and I got freckled and bruised. I was really into fashion and the style channel and wanted to be tall and thin so I could be a model. You can imagine the disappointment I felt when I stopped growing at 14 and developed hips and boobs while some of the girls that I used to dance with had legs that were as thin and long as a gazelle's and no boobs at all up until they hit like 20 or stopped dancing. I know we always want what we don't have, but you eventually learn to make the best of it. It took a long time to accept myself, and to make the best of what I was given.
I learned to accept my body shape- I have a tiny waist and an ass. No matter how thin I am, I'll always have a butt and meatier thighs, but you know, I learned to appreciate it especially after realizing a lot of girls would kill for curves and a flat stomach. I struggled a lot in college with my self esteem. I didn't have a boyfriend until I was 22 and I was convinced it was because I wasn't pretty enough or thin enough; in reality, I'm quite sure it's because I wasn't outgoing and inhibited due to being so painfully self-conscious and having almost no confidence in myself. It almost hurts to think back to a time when I hated myself so much because I felt like I didn't measure up to society's standard of what pretty is.
I'm 27 now and have learned to make the best of what I have. After college, when I was no longer drinking 6 nights out of 7 nights of the week and living on processed and frozen foods and being peer pressured into eating pizza at 2am, I lost a lot of weight. I still think I could be thinner some days, but that's just how I'm programmed to think. I know that I'm pretty fortunate to have a body I don't even work for and abuse to hell and back. I'm not trying to brag right now, I'm just trying to prove a point- as much as I can recognize how fortunate I am not to have to work out and to still have abs, I still have moments where I think I'm not good enough because I am not tall enough or thin enough or have nice enough facial features to be enviable levels of pretty. It doesn't matter how many compliments a week I might get, because of my history and fragile self-esteem, it only takes one misinterpreted comment or back-handed compliment to cause me to come crashing back down to that 19 year old girl I was at FIT. I go straight back to that girl that went to Vegas with her family and refused to put on a swimsuit or wear shorts in the 103 degree desert heat because she thought she was too fat to get half naked in public (I was about 20 lbs heavier than because I consumed upwards of 3000 calories a day (not even lying) and didn't live an active lifestyle at all).
It doesn't matter that I wake up and actually like what I see in the mirror most days. It doesn't matter how many good compliments or catcalls I might elicit every week, because of years of programming in thinking that I'm not good enough comes back to haunt me with the littlest misdemeanor. I've slowly learned to love my face, it photographs pretty fucking well, I have a smile most people have to pay for in the form of years of braces, and my muscles are well defined without doing a lick of work. However, last night, despite feeling pretty hot and confident, all it took was a comment from a homeless man, Yes, A FUCKING HOMELESS MAN, to make me feel like turning around and going home and drinking myself to death. I don't know why I let other people bring me down or build me up. But I am still that very impressionable and easily influenced 16 year old under it all, and other people's opinions can still make or break me.
Yes, ladies and gentleman, I let a homeless man begging me for money influence my self-worth last night after I walked past him and he screamed after me "come back Lady Gaga." That's all it took to ruin my night, and it's so, so fucked up that a comment like that would ruin my night. Some might think Lady Gaga is hot, but the majority do not agree. In fact, when you read comments on articles written about her online, the vast majority bash her looks and say awful fucking things about her face and body. So to have a guy tell me that I look like her was a real, low, blow. I don't think I look like her at all to be honest... but I wasn't thinking that last night. I was convinced that I was fat, should not have been wearing the crop top that I was wearing as a result, felt like the walk of self confidence I had was unwarranted given the fact that I must, in fact, be hideous, and felt my entire inner being shrivel up in mortification. I seriously wanted to go home. As I approached the line to get into Le Bain, I suddenly felt like I was a joke and wanted to die. Everyone in line seemed infinitely better looking than me and I felt ashamed of my appearance. I felt ashamed that I was wearing a crop top, I felt ashamed that I had my hair pulled back and wasn't hiding my face underneath of it the way that I did for years of my life. I felt short, and inadequate. Because of a stupid fucking comment from a HOMELESS man.
Then my despair turned into anger. I suddenly wanted to rip apart every fucking person before me. "Oh look at that fucking anorexic Russian model doing the slow, staggered slut walk to the Dream hotel, looking like she hasn't had a meal in months. Once she hit 6ft tall at the age of 12, her cold-hearted, money-hungry, Russian mother (because this is how all Russian women are...) probably said to the father, 'let's stop feeding her... this way, she go to America and make us lots of money as model or escort.'" Walking down W 16th Street, everything became so evident and obvious. The entire fucking nightlife scene is bullshit. NYC is bullshit.
-Next we went to Gilded Lily where the jacked door dude said he was jealous of my six pack... it wasn't enough to eradicate the Lady Gaga comment though. As we entered the downstairs club, my thoughts turned even more evil. "Look at these fucking disgusting, ghetto people at Gilded Lily. They're so fucking gross grinding on each other like fucking animals... I want to leave." Next we went to the box, where again, there was a line waiting to enter and an incompetent door man on his phone who only let in a *get this* a group of FIVE (5) jersey trash looking MEN (yes, all MEN). I was disgusted. He apparently let them in because at that time, the club was only taking tables getting bottle service. My disgust and hatred of humanity grew 10x. I hated every last normal looking mother fucker waiting around the door. I hated the women wearing heels less than 4 inches tall with frumpy shirts on. I hated the men in their tees and jeans looking like they came from Jersey. I hated the fucking doorman. I hated the entire city. I couldn't believe this was what my life had come down to.
