If I am not mistaken, we would rather see skinny thighs. We would rather see tiny waistlines, bronzed arms, defined cheekbones, and the whitest teeth. We want to see short skirts, and tight shirts, an open back. But please, be modest. We want girls to be short and petite, with small appetites so they can maintain small stomachs.
If anything jiggles, you’re out. If too much bone protrudes, you’re out. If you’re taller than him, you’re out. If you’re hair is too short, you’re out. If you don’t shave, you’re out. If you have acne, you’re out.
Don’t dress well? Dark circles? Too chubby? Odd teeth? Muffin top? Don’t smile enough? Too pale? Stretch marks? Scars? No make up? Too much muscle? Disproportionate? Can I see ribs? No butt? Dark body hair? Cellulite? Wrinkles? Dark Roots?
You. Are. Out.
Gathering the cumulative information from magazines, books, newspapers, idols and icons, my understanding of the general idea of beauty is made clear to anyone who can read a headline in a checkout line. I have been far too aware of my weight and measurements since I was ten years old. How can ANYONE agree that a third-grade girl’s top priority is losing weight?
I am constantly asked why I am insecure, or how I am insecure. I am even told that I have no right to be self-conscious because there are so many girls out there that would kill to be in my shoes. Do you think I wouldn’t kill to have a different body, though? I have gone to great lengths, many unhealthy, to guarantee a smaller dress size. (I am definitely not promoting that.)
There are people out there who expect body confidence in girls everywhere to happen overnight. How can I go from comparing my body to others and concerning about my weight for the past TEN YEARS to loving and appreciating every piece of myself by tomorrow? I can’t. I won’t. It hasn’t happened, yet. If you ask a girl why she is insecure, maybe you should think of all the beauty standards beaten into her skull since childhood. Think of the media and magazines. Think of the “hot” celebrities and their flat stomachs and collarbones. Do not tell me I can’t be insecure, because I damn well am.
(I need all of my readers to understand that I am not promoting unhealthy habits, or changing yourself to fit any mold. We can all be our own person. This is just a personal response to being told that I cannot be insecure. Women have such high standards to live up to, and those standards are incredibly hard to be confident in myself knowing I am not what the media presents as acceptable.)