Whenever my mom and I go to the mall, I cannot help but notice the other girls who are shopping. Many, dressed in mini-skirts and revealing tops, walk confidently and seem to get the interest of many. The winks and the whistles remind me of what sparks boys? curiosity.
I know that this is not the kind of attention that I desire, but yet I found myself longing for it anyways. My mom often explains to me why I should not want boys looking at me like that, because only one thought enters their mind. I did not wish for a boy to look at me sexually, but for once I wanted to be the pretty girl the boys would give a second glance to.
Ironically though, I would see similar ?pretty? girls walking around the hallways. Surprisingly, I was not able to escape hearing them complain about their bad hair days, or how they think they are fat. It drove me absolutely crazy!
But then one day, I realized a lot of boys were asking those girls out. I never understood how a guy would be able to stand listening to a girl whine about every supposed thing wrong with her. My normal reaction was to tell my friends how annoying I thought those girls were and how they just needed to stop complaining and realize that they were ?beautiful?.
There were three main things that I noticed about the girls who I honestly despised: they were thin; they were extremely flirtatious, and if they had cleavage, they would flaunt it. The dress code and the rule against ?PDA? (public display of affection) did not seem to faze them one bit.
But what did I end up doing? I started following the crowd. I always went into the bathroom at lunch, but not to go to the bathroom, but to stare at myself in the mirror trying to make my hair look perfect and my pounds of make-up look good. Long story short, this did not do anything. Not one guy treated me different, not one boy looked at me in the way I wanted him to look at me. I soon became more insecure.
Whenever I got up in the morning and looked in the mirror, I would begin to cry because I truly felt that God made a mistake with the way I looked. I felt worthless and empty. Even though I thought I was fat, I started the habit of stress eating. The days that I spent moping around eventually led to thoughts of hurting myself.
I thought that I was ugly, though my friends told me otherwise. I complained about how my freckles were ?un-attractive? and a nuisance. I talked about how I thought that I was over weight and how I had too many curves. I felt like this everyday, but yet so many people were oblivious to the fact that I was miserable.
However, I hid my feelings extremely well. When my step-dad, Rick, would pick me up from school, he would ask me how my day was. I would tell him how great I was and how much I learned?a bold face lie.
Every night when I called my dad, who lives down in Southern California, I would tell him that life was great. My parents divorced when I was 10, and ever since, my dad has only been slightly involved in my everyday life. I did not feel that it mattered if he knew the way I looked at myself.
From the time I was 11-years-old, to only two weeks ago I felt this way. One night while I was at youth group, I knew that I had to do something about the way I saw myself. The only thing I knew to do was to give my life to God.
Though I gave my life to God when I was six-years-old, I felt that I needed to do it again. So it was more of a ?re-dedication? process. When I was getting prayer, I heard God telling me that He does not create junk. He assured and told me that he made me the way I am for a reason. All the years of feeling worthless were soon lifted off my shoulders.
It was amazing that all I really had to do was give my burdens to God. Without him, and without my friends and family, I do not know where I would be right now. I guess you could say that I am the type of person who hungers for affirmation. Maybe a ?good job Hannah?, or ?nice to see you? every now and then would help keep me going.
I know I will still face criticisms and disappointments. Many people tell me that it is easy to forget commitments, and that I might fail to remember that God alone changed my life. Though the hardships I am bound to face may put me down, I am accountable to the woman who prayed for me. She is committed to asking me how I am, and is there to support and pray for me when I need it most.
Today I feel like a new creation. I have given up stress eating and I have stopped wearing so much make-up. I do not care about what boys think about me anymore either. But most importantly, I am confident. I appreciate what I look like on the outside, and what I look like on the inside.