You Don't Need Permission to Feel Pretty

Once, when I was in my school library, I had this bizarre exchange with a boy who, I think, was trying to hit on me using a combination of mean-boy-on-the-playground-who-is-actually-inlove-with-you and Regina George. 

He was sitting at the computer across from me and after about a half hour of awkward staring and mumbled comments, he finally struck up a conversation. I listened politely to a rambling speech about his future political aspirations, while he was clearly high out of his mind, until he said: you're really pretty. I responded -- like any normal person would to a compliment from an insane person -- with thank you, to which he aggressively said: so you think you're really pretty?

...what? Homeboy wasn't even quoting Mean Girls; he was seriously questioning me on whether I had dared to think I was pretty before he told me I was. I walked away from the conversation with the distinct impression that attractiveness is something other people bestow on you and not something you should ever claim for yourself. Unless, perhaps, you could recite all the compliments you'd received from others to give validation to the insane notion that you think you're pretty. 

He was clearly an asshat, but there's this idea in our culture, our collective psyche, that we should not like ourselves. We can openly talk about how we hate our thighs or need to lose a few pounds, and oh god, in what hideously distorted universe are dressing room mirrors created?!, but to talk about loving a psychical characteristic is to be disgustingly arrogant. Of course, we're supposed to practice self-love -- but a humble, self-deprecating kind of love. Don't ever openly say that you like something about your appearance unless you can also list five things you don't like.  Better yet, talk about qualities you like rather than physical characteristics. 

I was reading this blog post recently, where the writer (Sarah of Yes and Yes) invited her readers to share their favorite aspect of their appearance. The comments are fascinating. A lot of the  comments just straight up shared what they liked and why, and when I read them I was so warmed to see women who weren't bashfully saying, "welll....I guess my hair is okay"; no, they're like: my hair is outstanding! Outstanding is such an unexpectedly great adjective to see someone use about themselves. But some came with the introduction "people have told me..." or the caveat "but I've also struggled with this other thing". The most interesting comment for me was the one that started: "It seems taboo to like yourself."

Why is that true? Why do we relate when others make disparaging comments about themselves but we're uncomfortable when they unabashedly like the way they look? This attitude reinforces negative inner dialogue; if we are afraid to say positive things about ourselves to other people then we're more likely to think awful things about ourselves in private moments. 

I don't think we should draw all our self-worth from our physical appearance, or that we even have to be pretty; prettiness is not a rent you pay for occupying a space marked "female", but we should be able to like the way we look, to find ourselves attractive, without needing anyone else to tell us so. It should not be dependent on anyone else at all. It definitely shouldn't be something we're ashamed of.

If we are to believe the insane advertising we're subjected to, we can feel pretty only if we eat a certain type of cereal, buy a certain type of clothes, have a certain genetic makeup. We can feel lovely without doing/being any of that though, and we should talk about it more. We should talk about how good it feels to be in our skin.

We're so mean to our bodies, our faces, and they're the only one's we've got. Even the way that we talk about our bodies sometimes suggests that they're possessions to be owned, molded and abused, but not really a part of us. The way I think of my body, now that I've given up on hating it for any reason ever, is that it's not who I am, but it's like a best friend: integral to my life (duh!), important, to be respected, loved. My body, after all, is home to all the less tangible parts of myself that I'm proud of, and it's a pretty miraculous home. 

I have a middle schoolers basic understanding of science but even I know that the human body is incredible. When I think that my body performs a million functions a day without me having to consciously make it do so and that I also get to have a little button nose, big expressive eyes and a pretty cute butt?  Yeah, I'm going to go ahead and think I'm pretty regardless of whether the weirdo in the library thinks I am or not (or anyone else, for that matter). 

What do you like about yourself?