Today at school, a boy made a joke. This is, apparently, normal behavior for the species. What made this joke different, you might ask? Nothing. My reaction was different, for a number of reasons (the exploration of which is the point of this post,) but the joke was harmless and probably a lot less offensive than I took it to be. Nor, I'm sure, was it aimed with the specific purpose of hurting me. So why was I hurt?
Turns out it was my own insecurities.
Honestly, if I had not already been too hard on myself, and if I had not already had a poor self-image, would I have been offended by what this boy said?
If I did not feel so badly about myself that I thought I deserved to have these unkind things said, would I have believed them to be serious and aimed at me?
I know I'm not the first girl to be insecure about the way she looks. And oddly enough, I don't even necessarily hate the way I look all the time. Earlier today, in fact, I was photographed for an article involving a scholarship program I entered. I dressed up, spent some extra time on my makeup and hair, and I felt beautiful. But just one poorly timed word, and it all came crashing down.
You must think he said something absolutely horrible. But he didn't. He made some joke about ugly people. A joke so general and inconsequential that I don't even remember it. But I DO remember what happened inside of me. I felt ugly, unloved, and unwanted.
As I'm sure you inferred from the vastly subtle title, I don't blame him for what he said. This was an interesting opportunity for introspection: I learned from this that people are generally harmless. I learned that I am my own worst critic. And I learned that being offended isn't going to make me happy, and it's not going to make other people be more sensitive.
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