Feeling Unpretty... - After the Altar Call

Hello World,

I am hesitating about writing this blog post because it is so deeply personal, but part of the reason that I love blogs is because it is a way to connect with others through shared revelations…So from time to time, I must reveal…So I’m jumping in the deep water today…Come save me if I go out too far…LOL…

Since I was about 10 years old or so, I struggled with insecurities about my looks. My parents always made me feel loved and adored inside the cocoon of our nurturing home, but outside of those walls, I discovered it was a cold world. I don’t remember what boy or girl called me ugly first, but whoever said it first is of no consequence. Those words did what they were intended to do: make me question the beauty that I saw in the mirror.

A year or so later when I started to wear glasses, put on a few pounds and entered middle school, I retreated in the world of books where my favorite authors of the day like Judy Blume, Alice Walker and Brenda Wilkinson affirmed that while I may have been an ugly duckling then, one day the world would see the swan that I was on the inside. I remember trying to explain to my parents that people made fun of my looks at school to no avail. My mother and father believe I’m beautiful, and they just couldn’t fathom that others didn’t see what they saw. Plus, their Jamaican sensibilities didn’t permit a lot of whining and crying so I had to make sense of what was happening on my own.

I remember when I saw the ABC story “Teens Post ‘Am I Pretty or Ugly?’ Videos on YouTube” earlier this year. If YouTube had been in existence then, I would have probably uploaded one of these disturbing videos I was so hungry for outside positive affirmation. While I didn’t have YouTube, I did have Molly Ringwald, and  I identified with her characters in nearly all of her movies although I was a little black girl. I hoped desperately that high school would be different.

In some ways, high school was different. At the white middle school that I attended in Sandy Springs, I was thought to be on the chubby side, but at a black high school in College Park, I was Coke bottle fine. Still, there were a few people that managed to poke holes in my newfound but fragile confidence…As Vivian said in “Pretty Woman,” “The bad things are easier to believe. Haven’t you noticed that?!” And on some days, I could blame no one else than myself…I picked apart my looks feature by feature…

In college, after gaining and losing the Freshman 20 instead of Freshman 15 in my case and investing in contact lenses, I gathered enough confidence to enter the “Miss Jamaica Atlanta” competition. I didn’t win one of the top three spots, but I considered it a victory that I even put myself out there…I even wore a bathing suit…on stage…in front of people…Yikes…

I would like to say that now that I’m in my ’30s (one year from 40 to be exact…Wow,) I am no longer self-conscious and in complete mastery of my self-esteem, but on my worst days when my hair isn’t quite right or another gray hair shows up or I’m fighting adult acne(Wasn’t teen acne enough God?), I’m still that 10-year-old girl…Nevertheless, on my best days, I know that I am fearfully and wonderfully made; I’m learning to know that full well (Psalm 139:14)…

Any thoughts?

P.S. One of my fave TLC songs for obvious reasons-

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