I’m not sure why this particular memory keeps popping up in my head as of recently. But I thought I would share it on an anonymous platform, and maybe receive some positivity from sharing.
I am 26 now— this particular event occurred when I was 12 years old in the 7th grade. Picture day, to be exact. I wore my hair down and straight, wearing my best star-print shirt with a matching star necklace. I felt cute and ready to take my best yearbook picture yet— this feeling of confidence was a rarity for me as a pre-teen, because even as a child, I was deeply insecure with how I looked.
Standing in line with a group of friends, I looked into the small mirror, and I remember looking back with a gentle smile. When it was my turn, the photographer— a middle-aged woman with shorter blonde hair, immediately began to try to fix my hair and position I was sitting in. She did not greet me like she did my friends, and the other kids. All of a sudden, she started fixing me in sort of a frustrated, borderline-aggressive manner. This was followed by her huffing, and saying in this same manner, “you’re supposed to look PRETTY on picture day”— implying that I did not look nice enough to get my picture taken.
After the pictures were taken, I felt confused, albeit a bit sad. I rushed to the bathroom, asking myself questions. Did I have something in my hair? Food in my teeth? A few pimples? What could have possessed her to say that? I looked carefully in the bathroom mirror. Not a hair out of place. My brace-laden teeth were free of food. I’ve always had good skin. My following thought was… maybe me trying my best to look good… just wasn’t good enough.
Now, at my age, I can make other conclusions as to why this photographer acted the way she did— other than “she didn’t think I looked pretty.” But, back then, as a very insecure and sensitive pre-teen, this comment from a woman old enough to be my mom cut deeply, and just added on to my lack of self-esteem. In this particular photo, because of what happened, you can tell my smile was not genuine. I’m not quite sure why this memory is so prominent in my head. But I can tell you this— I’ve come a long way since then. I’m confident, I accept compliments very easily… and my smiles are 100% genuine. Thank you for reading.
I am 26 now— this particular event occurred when I was 12 years old in the 7th grade. Picture day, to be exact. I wore my hair down and straight, wearing my best star-print shirt with a matching star necklace. I felt cute and ready to take my best yearbook picture yet— this feeling of confidence was a rarity for me as a pre-teen, because even as a child, I was deeply insecure with how I looked.
Standing in line with a group of friends, I looked into the small mirror, and I remember looking back with a gentle smile. When it was my turn, the photographer— a middle-aged woman with shorter blonde hair, immediately began to try to fix my hair and position I was sitting in. She did not greet me like she did my friends, and the other kids. All of a sudden, she started fixing me in sort of a frustrated, borderline-aggressive manner. This was followed by her huffing, and saying in this same manner, “you’re supposed to look PRETTY on picture day”— implying that I did not look nice enough to get my picture taken.
After the pictures were taken, I felt confused, albeit a bit sad. I rushed to the bathroom, asking myself questions. Did I have something in my hair? Food in my teeth? A few pimples? What could have possessed her to say that? I looked carefully in the bathroom mirror. Not a hair out of place. My brace-laden teeth were free of food. I’ve always had good skin. My following thought was… maybe me trying my best to look good… just wasn’t good enough.
Now, at my age, I can make other conclusions as to why this photographer acted the way she did— other than “she didn’t think I looked pretty.” But, back then, as a very insecure and sensitive pre-teen, this comment from a woman old enough to be my mom cut deeply, and just added on to my lack of self-esteem. In this particular photo, because of what happened, you can tell my smile was not genuine. I’m not quite sure why this memory is so prominent in my head. But I can tell you this— I’ve come a long way since then. I’m confident, I accept compliments very easily… and my smiles are 100% genuine. Thank you for reading.