An Inbetweener 

The ideal beauty standard has changed and shifted and changed again for years. Society has a way of glorifying certain characteristics and shunning others; making the inbetweeners of the world concerned, self-conscious, and unaware of their own potential and beauty. 

I have felt the same way for a long, agonizing period of time. 

Society’s standards attempt to convince young, impressionable people that skin tone, height, and weight were of utmost importance. All I knew was that my milky white complexion and chubby build was not ‘in’ and maybe I never would be, either.

But was that such a bad thing? Why are all women held to a standard much higher than most could attain? If we all looked the same, what would be fresh and exciting about that?

As a 20-year-old living a social media obsessed world, I see it all the time. Beauty is cut-throat. We use social media every day to achieve a look we don’t even have, to impress people we don’t even like, to make us different than who we actually are. 

We’ve become so obsessed with what we ‘should’ look like that we don’t appreciate what we already have. 

We always see people who say they can’t wait to be tan or can’t wait to lose weight or can’t wait to be this or be that. But why? 9/10 times we aren’t doing it for our health, so why are we doing it? 

I’m guilty of doing this not because I thought it would benefit me for the long run, but because I was led to believe I wouldn’t be wanted or likeable or beautiful if I wasn’t.

We can’t possibly be that dense, can we?

When I woke up this morning, I said to myself “Wow, I am really gaining some weight. I look huge in everything I wear,” and thus, I started to panic. 

Then I took a step back and said, “Why the hell do I care?” If for the most part I am healthy and actively trying to stay that way, why does a number on a scale matter? Why does any of that bullshit matter if I’m a good person? A smart person? Someone with more to offer than just a body?

If the process of becoming society’s idea of beautiful is going to make me miserable or unhealthy, then why go through with it? 

Since when did becoming beautiful override being intelligent or kind?

Perhaps I’m not thin or tan or ideal, but maybe I’m better off that way. 

I’ve got a lot more to offer than that. Maybe for the first time in my life I’d like to be praised for my values and accomplishments as opposed to what I look like. Maybe I’ll have bad days and good days and some in between days. Maybe, just maybe, I’m better off this way. 

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