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Ever since I was old enough to be considered attractive, people have been telling me that
I should be attractive for a living. I let that mindset consume me, drawing blood
from a tube of lipstick, wondering, 'who am I wearing this for and why?'
And I chastise myself for letting me get swept up into this lie that it's what's on the outside
that counts, and forget who you are at your core, because that's not what other people
can see. And I wish I could take back every moment
I sat there feeling self-conscious, squirming around in my skin, wishing I could take it
off because life would be so much easier if I could just look like her.
And it's so hard lying in bed, someone you know loves you is kissing you all over your
face, but as soon as they say, "you're beautiful," you pull away, because you're not sure if
it's true. I was taller than everyone else as a child,
and they called me "bigfoot". When I grew a few more inches, they said I
should be a basketball player, because once again, it wasn't what I felt or what I thought
that made me a person. It was my height and my weight and my pretty little face.
Every time they would say it, I wanted to throw a basketball at their face and tell
them "I am not 5'10"! I am Rachael!" But people like to think that it's not them
judging a person and wrapping them up in a little box, because their body does that for
them. Your body is just one giant box, a gift to
the world that nobody cares to open. It gets left under the Christmas tree, because it's
so pretty to look at, but lord knows what's inside?
It could be something really scary, but it could also be really beautiful.
And who knows? Maybe at my core, I truly am a model or a basketball player, but couldn't
you have just opened me up and asked? I don't want to be my body. I want to be my
soul. When I walk around, I don't want to worry
about what other people are seeing, because when I look at someone, I want to skip right
past their body and gaze into their spirit. And I never want to make the mistake of telling
a person what they should do with their life because they have the looks for it.
Beautiful people approach other beautiful people, voicing their assumptions that they've
never know what it's like to feel ugly. The other beautiful people defend themselves
by saying they know what it's like to feel the pressures to be beautiful.
The poor things don't even realize that by constantly thinking of their body, they constantly
are their body. They can't see how completely exhausting that is.
They're exploiting the problem, but refusing to acknowledge it.
And don't you dare tell me no one's getting hurt, because people can write on their facebook
page, "it's what's inside that counts," and with their next breath, ask themselves if
they should skip dinner tonight. The world's become a silent beauty contest,
and the majority of it has resigned themselves to be the losers.
They walk around with their heads hung in shame, not realizing that if they'd just look
up, there'd be someone there who has been secretly dying to stare into their gorgeous
eyes. Because people want to know you, but they're
lazy. They want to experience you, but just looking is easier. They want to fall in love,
but don't think they have the energy. They also want to be known, be experienced,
be loved, but you must do unto others what you want done for yourself, but they've forgotten
what it's all about, and they don't have the courage to be reminded.