Yesterday, I wrote my mom a letter. I’ve been bothering her about wanting to dye my hair again for about two months now, but every time I try to bring it up, she gets mad and tells me that she doesn’t want to talk about it. So, I told her, "Fine. I’ll just write you a letter." And there I was at the kitchen table, done with my French and Geometry homework. It was almost like an English class assignment, using all of the skills I knew to write a persuasive essay.
So, I left the note at her spot at the table and twenty-four hours later, with a little nagging on my part, she finally read it. I thought I’d won her over for the most part, until I realized she had misunderstood my intentions and thought I was either going to dye my hair close to its natural color or buy something to wash the current color out and not dye it anymore. Well, I don't really know where she go that idea from, but sometimes it seems like no one understands me or why I want to do certain things or why I want to do them a certain way.
What Mom doesn’t understand is that is almost the exact opposite of what I want. I want to look different, beautiful for a change. I don’t want to look like so much like… myself. I want to look like someone that is easier to love, easier to envy, easier to admire. It sounds so immature to think that feeling wanted all stems from your outer appearance. But, it’s so true, isn’t it? Why is it that everyone else in the world is allowed to change? Or maybe they don't even have to.
Why doesn’t my mother understand that I'm kind of sad, and maybe, just maybe, feeling pretty would make it all at least a tiny bit better? But for girls like me, the only way to feel pretty is to change. I wish I were the kind of girl who doesn’t have to change to feel pretty, who is just so secure and confident in herself. But, the sad, disgusting, horrible truth is that feeling beautiful is hearing someone else tell you that you are. And that’s something I’ve never heard. Maybe Mom doesn’t understand that I just want to hear someone say that to me. Not the random guys on the internet who have only seen only edited, staged pictures from the neck up. Not the little kids who don’t even know what they’re talking about. Not the old people with their expired opinions and failing eyesight. Not my upperclassmen friends who have that whole "Be happy and optimistic, everyone is beautiful in their own way" attitude. Not my close friends and family who are obliged to stay those things to make me feel better.
Maybe it all just comes down to the couples in the hallways, the ones my Chemistry teacher was referring to. The hand-holders, the happy faces and quick kisses between class, the gift givers and receivers, the celebrators of Valentine’s Day, the lovers who love and hold and kiss each other like it’s so damn easy to be on the receiving end of love. The girls with the boys linked to them in the hallways are all beautiful. I look in the mirror and I see a girl who will never know that feeling unless she changes.
I hate this world. I hate how the outside is all the matters. Why does it have to be this way?
I was with Yuuki, complaining about Ginny and Leslie flirting with Jordan, and how he would definitely date either of them before me because they're like ten million times prettier bah blah blah, while she was checking her Facebook, scrolling through her News Feed. She stopped when she came across a girl’s status that went something like this, "A perfect body and a pretty face don’t make up for a horrible personality and a blackened heart." Yuuki gestured to the words, and said, "See? This is true." Mere seconds later, a person commented on the status, a guy to be exact. He said, "I… disagree." I pointed at his comment and said, "There, Yuuki. That’s that truth," and then I left the room to go get a shower.
Honestly, I wish I lived in a movie. I wish I lived in one of those perfect universes on the other side of the TV screen where the chubby, awkward, nerdy girl ends up with the guy of her dreams in the end. But, I live in the worst place imaginable: reality. The girls like me either change or end up alone until the boys become men and realize that beauty is more than just skin deep.
Why doesn't my mom realize that I want to change myself on the outside as soon as possible? Because that time I mentioned, that time when the boys realize the truth about what beauty actually is?
It's going to be a while. I don't want to wait that long.
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