THE SELF CARE CORNER
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ROWING UP I WAS NEVER ONE OF the “Popular” kids. I never had the latest trends or any of the newest Mario Kart racing games. While everyone would flock to the pizza shop after school, I would go to the library and wait patiently for my mother with my nose in a book. My long limbs were always too long for my school uniform pants and my hair was always in a neon colored headband. I was different, and although I never fit in I didn’t mind being a little peculiar. I vividly remember one sixth grade morning forgetting my always slightly crooked glasses on my dresser in a rush to make it to school on time for once. Sitting at my desk my then so called friends approached me and told me I was better off without glasses, and that they were going to do me the honor of giving me a make-
mirror, and sifting out what I thought was wrong with me. I felt ashamed of my body, so I began to skip meals. I felt embarrassed to wear glasses so now I would purposely forget them when I went to school. I was diffident about my crooked teeth so I would barely smile in photos. My perception of myself was so warped, so damaged, that for a period of time I would hesitate to make eye contact with people walking on the street. I decided keeping my head down was the easiest way to live life. I compromised my dignity to avoid being called “Ugly” at any cost. When I arrived at high school I decided I was going to reinvent myself. I proceeded to wear makeup, and tried to show off a more confident side of my personality. As I started to grow out of the awkward pubescent stage and
Body Dysmorphia
THE UGLY TRUTH THAT YOU REALLY AREN’T UGLY. BY MCKENNA KELLEY over that day. I didn’t think I needed a makeover but I accepted with gratitude in the hopes of finally fitting in for a change. When they were finished I expected to be transformed in the eyes of my middle school peers, but instead a boy shouted “She still looks like Ugly Betty!” and everyone erupted in laughter. For the first time in my life I went home that day and began to see myself differently. I locked myself in my room, looked in the mirror, and began to cry. Riddled with insecurity, from that day forward I instituted a daily ritual of going into my bathroom, staring into my
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into my new body, I thought I was content, but amidst the plethora of people who started to call me beautiful a part of me still never believed themi. No matter how hard I tried to trust their compliments I still reverted back to my old toxic way of thinking. Regardless of how confident I pretended to be I still did not feel like enough. I consumed diet pills and obsessively worked out with the anxiety that I would once again be the chubby middle school kid I despised. After my encounter with braces I over wore my retainer and constantly whitened my teeth, with the fear that my crooked smile would soon
return. I fabricated a mask of coolheadedness to those around me, but inside I was fighting a battle. I had difficulty accepting people’s praises and would shoot down a gratifying remark any chance I got. The most difficult part of it all, was the fact that because others saw me as aesthetically pleasing, they wouldn’t believe me when I told them I felt like I was not. To them it looked as if I simply wanted more flattery, but in reality I hated myself. I would look in the mirror disgusted at what I saw, and keep quiet about how I felt. I eventually broke down, and an overwhelming sense of confusion washed over me. I couldn’t understand why I didn’t see myself the way others saw me. I wanted to be called beautiful my entire life but now that the time had finally come, I couldn’t accept it. After speaking with a friend about the way I felt, she said “I think you have Body Dysmorphic Disorder”. I had never heard those words in my life. Nevertheless after a late night Google search on the topic and a talk with my schools guidance counselor, I concluded that she was right. Admitting to myself that I had a disorder was the hardest part. I didn’t like the idea of something having so much control over me and I didn’t want to accept the fact that I had a problem. However, the realization that I did, reconditioned my thinking and I forced myself to try and recover from the years of damage the disorder had inflicted upon me. I began the process of beginning to align with who I truly was and heal the pain I felt inside for so long. The sentiment I didn’t realize at the time was the fact that I wasn’t in solitary. In reality an alarming one to two percent of the general population have this disorder alone. So many people quietly struggle with looking in the mirror and not seeing themselves as the amazing, alluring human beings others know and love. Can you blame us? We as a society have a debauched view of what we consider to be exquisiteness. We are constantly told to love who we are, and when we finally start to feel comfortable in our own skin, a magazine or commercial subconsciously tells us “Not like that”. We are left hopeless and disconcerted, trying
