Disclaimer: I promise I’m not fishing for compliments, or trying to get people to shout me down,“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU’RE NOT PRETTY EVERYONE IS BEAUTIFUL IT’S THE SOUL THAT MATTERS.” I’m sharing my own perspective of my own story.
From the age of 12 to 20, I was pretty awkward. I had crazy hair that couldn’t decide if it was straight or wavy or curly or angry (also known as 80s hair). I had never heard of hair product. No fashion sense whatsoever. The only times I looked cute were when I stole my older sister’s clothes. I also identified strongly with Jo from Little Women, in that I was gruff, hated most social situations, and couldn’t be bothered with social graces. My mum would remonstrate with me for refusing to wear makeup or earrings, or make much of an effort at looking presentable.
I was not only awkward, I was aware that I was awkward. I remember at sixteen being excruciatingly aware of how awkward my gait was, as my arms hung lifelessly at my side as I walked. My body posture seemed to scream SELF CONSCIOUS (the more you think of your arms the less you know what to do with them.. try this when posing for a photo). So I started practising my confident, graceful walk, as I walked home from college. I’d swing my arms, try to place my feet one in front of the other (like on a beam balance), and hoped that the external would somehow help with the internal. I'd even try a kind of swagger sometimes. (I wonder what the passersby thought.)
To make matters worse, I had two very pretty sisters, who always effortlessly seemed to collect droves of admirers, guys who would take them out to dances, give them gifts, and flowers, and chocolates, and swear undying devotion. It was too easy to compare myself with them unfavourably. Other people did it too. "You're very... different."
I finally and gradually began to grow into my skin, learnt the secrets of side partings, and hair clips, and coconut oil, and hair product, and eye liner, and wearing clothes that worked together.
I began to enjoy who I was, and not be so scared or disdainful of the world. It was around the same time that I went on a retreat where I felt that the Lord helped bring healing to some wounds. Each year of my 20s was better than the last. Now I'm 30, and I am SO much happier here than I was at 18.
Now on the other side of the awkward non-pretty phase, I think about it, and I realize that although there were many things I would have liked to have changed about my teenage years, I also am very grateful for how I became who I am through those years.
Pretty girls often get too much attention too soon: I have seen so often the bad effect of young, or insecure, or needy girls becoming the center of attention. Attention is heady! It’s intoxicating. It makes you feel like you’re the center of the world, and spoiler alert: you’re not. It’s too much power put into the hands of unsteady hands. Actually, what the heck, even mature adults such as myself can lose perspective with too much attention. But when you're older you're more likely to recover it and laugh at yourself a lot sooner. I think not being the center of attention helps one have a more down to earth perspective of oneself. And I wish that all young people could have the same.
Non-pretty girls are usually funnier: Not that being non-funny makes anyone of any less value… but sometimes not being at the center of things means, the non-beautiful (or short, or overweight) often get their share of the attention by developing a sharp wit. Not that I ever consciously did it because I was trying to get attention, but I found that I enjoyed social situations so much more when I was making witty comments under my breath to an appreciative audience.
I observed a lot more: When I wasn't at the center of everything, I had space and energy to observe and analyze the workings of the world, of human behaviour, of social situations. Again, a little perspective.
I am much more aware of what it feels like to be the outsider: And hopefully more empathetic. Only a few people have grown up in a graced circle of acceptance and special-ness. But when you’re in the center, it’s easy to forget that not everyone is. If you walk into a party and always have someone who wants to talk to you, you forget that lonely, awkward, unsettled feeling of not having that. But it’s when you’re on the inside that you have the special privilege of being able to pull the outsider in. But how few of us do that. It’s so much easier to gravitate to the people we know well, and are comfortable with.
I wrote about this before- but I still remember a young man (a friend of my older sister) asking me to dance at a wedding when I was awkward, young, and uncool, sitting with my parents. He told me it was because my older sister had once asked him to dance when he had no one to dance with. I had never felt more special- he was older, handsome (to me), and picked ME! I KNOW what it’s like! You can't know till you've been there. But then you need to remember.
I delight in feeling beautiful and graceful: Probably far more so than if it had always come easily. It’s like a gift that is ever new. It’s what makes all makeover movies so relatable (think Princess Diaries).
But I realize awkward bodies can hide beautiful, interesting souls: And maybe judge people a little less based on their terrible dress sense, their sticking out hair, their acne, their self consciousness. Outward beauty and grace is nice. It's pleasing to the eye. But it surely isn't all that is to be known of a person.
From the age of 12 to 20, I was pretty awkward. I had crazy hair that couldn’t decide if it was straight or wavy or curly or angry (also known as 80s hair). I had never heard of hair product. No fashion sense whatsoever. The only times I looked cute were when I stole my older sister’s clothes. I also identified strongly with Jo from Little Women, in that I was gruff, hated most social situations, and couldn’t be bothered with social graces. My mum would remonstrate with me for refusing to wear makeup or earrings, or make much of an effort at looking presentable.
(This is not the worst of the pictures, but you didn't really think I was going to pull those out for the Whole World Wide Web to see, did you?)
I was not only awkward, I was aware that I was awkward. I remember at sixteen being excruciatingly aware of how awkward my gait was, as my arms hung lifelessly at my side as I walked. My body posture seemed to scream SELF CONSCIOUS (the more you think of your arms the less you know what to do with them.. try this when posing for a photo). So I started practising my confident, graceful walk, as I walked home from college. I’d swing my arms, try to place my feet one in front of the other (like on a beam balance), and hoped that the external would somehow help with the internal. I'd even try a kind of swagger sometimes. (I wonder what the passersby thought.)
To make matters worse, I had two very pretty sisters, who always effortlessly seemed to collect droves of admirers, guys who would take them out to dances, give them gifts, and flowers, and chocolates, and swear undying devotion. It was too easy to compare myself with them unfavourably. Other people did it too. "You're very... different."
I finally and gradually began to grow into my skin, learnt the secrets of side partings, and hair clips, and coconut oil, and hair product, and eye liner, and wearing clothes that worked together.
Beauty tips I still haven't got the hang of
I began to enjoy who I was, and not be so scared or disdainful of the world. It was around the same time that I went on a retreat where I felt that the Lord helped bring healing to some wounds. Each year of my 20s was better than the last. Now I'm 30, and I am SO much happier here than I was at 18.
Now on the other side of the awkward non-pretty phase, I think about it, and I realize that although there were many things I would have liked to have changed about my teenage years, I also am very grateful for how I became who I am through those years.
Pretty girls often get too much attention too soon: I have seen so often the bad effect of young, or insecure, or needy girls becoming the center of attention. Attention is heady! It’s intoxicating. It makes you feel like you’re the center of the world, and spoiler alert: you’re not. It’s too much power put into the hands of unsteady hands. Actually, what the heck, even mature adults such as myself can lose perspective with too much attention. But when you're older you're more likely to recover it and laugh at yourself a lot sooner. I think not being the center of attention helps one have a more down to earth perspective of oneself. And I wish that all young people could have the same.
Non-pretty girls are usually funnier: Not that being non-funny makes anyone of any less value… but sometimes not being at the center of things means, the non-beautiful (or short, or overweight) often get their share of the attention by developing a sharp wit. Not that I ever consciously did it because I was trying to get attention, but I found that I enjoyed social situations so much more when I was making witty comments under my breath to an appreciative audience.
I observed a lot more: When I wasn't at the center of everything, I had space and energy to observe and analyze the workings of the world, of human behaviour, of social situations. Again, a little perspective.
I am much more aware of what it feels like to be the outsider: And hopefully more empathetic. Only a few people have grown up in a graced circle of acceptance and special-ness. But when you’re in the center, it’s easy to forget that not everyone is. If you walk into a party and always have someone who wants to talk to you, you forget that lonely, awkward, unsettled feeling of not having that. But it’s when you’re on the inside that you have the special privilege of being able to pull the outsider in. But how few of us do that. It’s so much easier to gravitate to the people we know well, and are comfortable with.
I wrote about this before- but I still remember a young man (a friend of my older sister) asking me to dance at a wedding when I was awkward, young, and uncool, sitting with my parents. He told me it was because my older sister had once asked him to dance when he had no one to dance with. I had never felt more special- he was older, handsome (to me), and picked ME! I KNOW what it’s like! You can't know till you've been there. But then you need to remember.
I delight in feeling beautiful and graceful: Probably far more so than if it had always come easily. It’s like a gift that is ever new. It’s what makes all makeover movies so relatable (think Princess Diaries).
But I realize awkward bodies can hide beautiful, interesting souls: And maybe judge people a little less based on their terrible dress sense, their sticking out hair, their acne, their self consciousness. Outward beauty and grace is nice. It's pleasing to the eye. But it surely isn't all that is to be known of a person.
