Mommy Finger, Baby Finger

Dear little one, don’t waste your pretty

“Do you think you’re pretty?” I vividly remember the day my father asked me that question. I was 19 years old. My father had always been very critical of me and on that day he looked at me in the eyes when he asked me the question and I whispered, “I think I’m OK.” Then, he sat me down in front of the TV and pointed at the half-naked women dressed in soccer team jerseys and short shorts and said, “You’re not. You will never be pretty like those girls on TV.”

As an adolescent, I was also bullied by my cousins, who would say I was too ugly for the boys I liked to like me back. So, they dated them, poked fun at me and that hurt … like hell. As a child, I was considered overweight and the doctors sent me to a nutritionist. Even after losing the weight through exercise and sports, I grew up believing I was fat and ugly. Still, believing that I wasn’t pretty didn’t stop me from doing well in school. I was in Honor Roll and Principal’s List. My professors loved my artwork and creative writing. Looking back now, my sense of security came from my academics. I learned that this was an area where I could excel.

Over the weekend, I took out a lot of things sitting in our garage to sell and in between those things, I found pictures of me and my date at our high school dance. I noticed something — the girl in the pictures? She was absolutely pretty. She was smiling and fashionable in her black, lace dress and black, leather, ankle booties. She was lean and muscular and her hair was long, curly and black. She was awkward, shy, intelligent and that made her cute.

Silly of me to think that she wasn’t pretty.

This revelation actually made me laugh. As my daughter would say, “How dare you!” I had allowed other to write my story — a story that, while it carried me through so much darkness,  I rewrote. And, if you ask me, I rewrote it well. But, that’s the case of so many adults. They’ve allowed themselves to be defined by the stories about them that others wrote.

For the last six years or so, I’ve been working on telling myself a different story about who I am. When I look in the mirror, I love who I see. This self-love has improved the way I think, eat, walk, talk, dress and carry myself. And, as the days go on, the more I feel I become more and more my true self. But, it was a long, hard road to get here. And, in this journey I have found that my definition of “pretty” has changed.

The truth is, we are all uniquely created. I wish someone would’ve told me sooner how my  humor, intelligence and kindness were things to love about myself. So, little one, I’m telling you that you don’t have to fit the world’s image of beauty. You are pretty! You, with your vibrant spirit, talents and open heart. There’s so much to beauty than looks alone. A pretty face may get people’s attention, but it is the way you move, speak and express yourself that will hold their attention. Whatever you do, don’t hold on to the stories people make up about you — or else they’ll become scars you’ll carry with you for much of your life. The world can, and will eventually adjust.

There were many times in my life when being “ugly” set me back. For example, I wanted to do ballet but I compared myself to other little girls. I wanted to be a model, but couldn’t imagine myself on TV.  There were even times in college while I was working on my degree in print journalism when I was approached by news people on the train, offering me training in broadcast journalism.

There’s so much I would’ve done had I known better. Still, I feel incredibly proud at how far I’ve come. Having this new perspective of my self and confidence has brought me to appear in music videos, modeling shows and photoshoots. I just wish I knew sooner that the world is mine and I can shape it how I want to.

So, little one, don’t waste your pretty years judging yourself. Your purpose is to live a full, happy life and it begins with YOU.