Not So Secret Life of Girls

I can remember 6th grade being the first year I realized I was wearing the wrong clothes. I’m not sure how it started, maybe one day I just looked down and saw jeans and shoes that no one else was wearing, but after that realization I couldn’t go back. I never cared about my hair, barely wore make up, and had a hard time convincing my mom that $60 wasn’t too much for a pair of jeans from The Limited Too. Do you guys remember that place? It was a really expensive store for not very cute clothes that every 12 year old wanted. Needless to say, middle school was harsh. I used to take my birthday money and buy one shirt from there (because I couldn’t afford much else) and then wear it with my old tapered jeans. I knew I didn’t want to wear heavy make up or grow out my hair but I also desperately wanted to fit in. This winning combination created a fashion sense that never quite made sense or looked right. Every birthday I wanted my money to be able to transform me with make up or the right clothes. The older I got, the worse it got. I only wore things my friends or boys liked. Pretty soon I was acting how I thought those same people wanted me to act. Sometimes I would embrace my talent of humor only to cower when someone else didn’t approve. When my friends got together and discussed all the things they wanted to change about themselves, I joined in not realizing the consequences. It’s a common story for girls to hate themselves. I’m not sure if any of us realize what we’re doing until we manage to get out of it (if we ever do manage that). My journals were filled with all my desires to change every little thing about myself and I constantly thought about being someone else and how happy that would make me. It’s a secret life of being a girl that I didn’t tap into until evenings with girlfriends over coffee cups or glasses of wine when we would all share similar stories. We never talked like this when we were younger (probably out of fear of not fitting in) but as adult women we could finally unleash the years of self-hatred. Too often I see a little girl being told how adorable she is or forced to kiss and hug people from their family, church, babysitters, or friends of their parents even when they clearly don’t want to. I hear teenage girls asked about boyfriends and prom dates instead of their college plans or other interests. Parents explain to their daughters not to dress a certain way and attract negative attention while church youth groups (not all) explain that young girls should be careful about how their male peers might view them (i.e. don’t wear revealing clothing). If we don’t have a current boyfriend then we should be weary of how we’ll appear one day to our future husband. The messages are all clear that the way men see us defines us. No wonder young girls take it hard when one boy doesn’t give them attention or blows them off. No wonder that a teenager may feel like her world is over if she isn’t wearing the right outfit. No wonder journals across America are filled with dreams of looking different or plastic surgery. Now I’m able to share these feelings of inadequacy with other women and learn to deal with them in a healthy way. I have self confidence and dreams that far exceed a husband (sorry, Aaron but you really are awesome too) but I still can’t help but wonder if I would be even farther if I hadn’t spent all those years hating myself. Where would I be if I’d been able to see the good things about myself and love my reflection in the mirror rather than wanting to look like the most popular girl in school? I can’t change the past and wouldn’t if I had the choice; now I have a non-profit where I work with teen girls, a great and equal relationship, and amazing friends! Despite all this, I do want one thing so desperately. If I have a daughter, I want a world where she doesn’t feel the way I felt. I want a world for her where she knows she’s wonderful just the way she is and that her talents and self-confidence can take her anywhere she wants in life. I want this world not just for my future daughter, but also for every girl. We can start this world in our homes, places of worship, schools, streets, media, and wherever we are. Slowly maybe journals can fill up with hopes, dreams, and things that make girls happy, not sad or depressed. Life can’t be perfect but it doesn’t have to involve self-hatred. That’s my birthday wish this year.