I’ve spent years competing within an image in my head – that I’m the black sheep of my family; overweight, short, dumb and single. The oldest female grandchild struggling with over thinking and expectation but really I brought it on myself. I am a beautiful person with a kind heart and the only opinion that matters is mine. The way I see myself and the things I love, the people that care don’t mind that I’m different, the clothes I wear or the music I listen to. They only want to see me happy within myself and I’m content with myself.
This idea of beauty being a skinny girl in a tight dress, heels and makeup is outrageous. I’m not that beautiful. I’d prefer my smile and confidence are the things that attract another person into my life rather than a body exposed. I’m a bookworm for crying out loud – I live in ponytails and jeans. I get excited by bubble wrap and bright colours. I wear my heart on my sleeve and genuinely care about other people. Song lyrics speak to me and I will be on every dancefloor I can without a drop of liquid courage.
Maybe it’s growing up or being stuck for most of my twenties that’s finally made me realise I am my own kind of beautiful and my story is only just beginning. I am strong enough and capable to face the world as an honest, thoughtful woman. If somehow I attract more like-minded people as I go then my world will brighter – I know I’ll slip up again and anxiety will take hold but hopefully I’ll have supportive people surrounding me, encouraging me and picking me up.
I won’t look for prince charming but I believe one day I will meet him and that societal requirements will reduce the feeling of competition but somewhere deep within me I think I’ll surprise everyone and put on the greatest show for all to see.