The Girl Who Cried in the Justice Fitting Room

Some of us are healthier than others. Some of us are totally self-assured. I remember all of my awful haircuts. I remember drinking a frightful amount of cosmos at a Mariah Carey concert trying to impress my millennial cousin. I often fail to remember that the whole world does not revolve around me.

Life goes on. You may be amazed by the things that haunt you as time moves forward. But to me, time isn’t what moves – it’s you.

When I was younger, my world revolved around One Direction. Life felt really simple. These were the days in which I played with Barbies and asked for “crackle” nail polish. My future felt like it would be a breeze; I couldn’t wait to get older. Elementary school eventually flurried by. Rather than being excited to be older and wiser, I began to feel insecure.

Then came Middle School and I grew even more self-conscious. This era brought new friendships and a new agenda: comparing myself to my friends. I experimented with the bathroom scale. I cursed myself in a Justice fitting room for having cellulite (even if I didn’t know the word for it yet).

At this time, I coyly began to understand who I was, and I didn’t like her at all.

By high school, I had aced the art of pretending. I always smiled in photos, laughed in the right places, and learned to quiet the voice in my head that always whispered: You’re not enough. I became fluent in the language of likability by dressing the part, saying the right things, and never taking up space.

But beneath the mousy shyness and Snapchat filters, I was still that twelve year old in the fitting room trying to shrink herself into a different version of herself that might be easier to love.

Now I’m trying something different. I am learning to unlearn. To recognize that maybe growing up isn’t about outgrowing your insecurities. Maybe it’s about learning to live alongside them with more compassion. Maybe it’s not about having it all together, but having a little more grace when you fall apart.

And maybe it’s okay that I still wince at the old haircuts and compare myself to others and still forget that the world doesn’t revolve around me. Because I’m not trying to be perfect anymore. I’m just trying to be me.