Part Five: “Such a pretty girl”

When I was younger I was incredibly skinny, as many kids are before they begin to grow into their bodies. I was that lanky kid with skinny little arms and legs to match. I was also one of the only black girls in my town. So, you can imagine the stares I got.

“People are staring at me.”

“It's because you're so pretty.”

“Everyone keeps looking at me”

“Of course, they are, they are jealous of those long skinny legs”

So, there it was. I was pretty and skinny, skinny and pretty, pretty and skinny.

Skinny Pretty.

I got it time and time again in my youth and still do to this day. It's the first thing people say to me when they meet me, will stop me in my tracks to say how stunning I am, will pull my mom aside when we are out together to say how gorgeous I am and how happy she must be.

Voicing this I sound bratty, spoiled, dramatic. I know that, trust me I know that. Why am I complaining about a compliment some people would kill to get once in a while let alone every day?

Forgive me for not knowing all the exact science and psychology behind this, but the way you're spoken to as a kid impacts you as an adult. How you view yourself, the world around you, other people, the morals you live by, the values you hold etc. How you were raised and nurtured as a child, affects who you are today.

The town I lived in and the people who surrounded me, led me to believe that the most interesting, most noticeable, most important thing about me, was that I was skinny and pretty. Don't get me wrong, this wasn't all I was raised on, my parents taught me all the basics; morals, manners, respect and what not.

But my community raised me on vanity.

I've only begun to sit with this issue and unpack it recently but I've concluded that this praise on my physical appearance, and emphasis on the way I looked in my youth has led me to only value myself or believe that I am interesting or deserving of love when I look attractive. Meaning when I am pretty or skinny.

I find myself not wanting to leave the house on days my body looks more bloated than usual. I refuse to go to events I was excited about all week if my outfit doesn't look good, I don't want to see my friends if my hair is not done or my face is swollen from lack of sleep. I am constantly comparing myself when I go out in public to those around me. I analyze if I am the prettiest when I'm out with my friends and find myself getting upset when I'm not. I feel embarrassed and wrong when I'm in public not looking my best.

I sit and think about all this and relate it back to being the pretty skinny one growing up. Because why would I go out to a party if I don't look the best in the room? Why would I want to be around a group of people who are prettier than me? Why would I wear that top if it doesn't make me look skinny?

Who am I, what am I if not the pretty skinny one?

I don't feel valuable, or important or needed when I don't look a certain way. I feel embarrassed, wrong, unwanted, and unlovable.

All because I don't feel pretty and skinny.

I was praised so much for how I looked growing up that it carried with me into my adult life and led me to believe that if I wasn't pretty, I was nothing. This mentality over time crawled into my mind and made home there.

I wasn't hard-working for getting accepted into a university dance program. I was obviously dancing because with a body like that it must be so easy for me.

I wasn't creative or smart for making my own clothes, I could wear anything with that body.

I wasn't resourceful or impressive for getting a job so young, I was just getting what I wanted because of that face.

I wasn't landing auditions because I was talented, they just always chose the pretty skinny girls.

My physical appearance was the only thing that mattered. Not how hard working I was, or intelligent, or caring or underweight, or unhappy, or ashamed I was. Just the way I looked. This took tolls on me in ways I am only beginning to understand, and drove my eating disorders to new heights.

I can’t start eating now, everyone knows me as the skinny girl, and I’m not pretty if I’m not skinny, years of anorexia and bulimia taught me that. So, I continued to starve. And I continued to be the pretty girl. What choice did I have?

I only got accepted to a dance program because I’m so thin. I can’t gain weight.

None of my clothes will look good on me if my body doesn't look like this. I can’t gain weight.

I wouldn't get a job if I didn't look like this, they only hired me for being pretty. I can’t gain weight.

I won’t get booked for any auditions if I’m not this slim. I can’t gain weight.

Every excuse people made about my accomplishments started becoming true in my head.

And it ruined me.

Talk soon,

Em