LMS for a TBH
This status was so popular back in middle school. People loved to rate others, and people loved to be rated so that they could receive confirmation about the traits they already knew were true. The original poster’s Facebook status would blow up with likes and the double taps on Instagram were unparalleled. I always wondered why people needed other people to tell them that they were pretty or that they were fun to hang out with. Believing in self-confidence (at that time I didn’t have any, I just pretended I did), I refused to like the statuses. Or maybe I refused to confront the fact that other people had opinions about me.
You see, I liked to live in my bubble. I believed that everything I did was correct and justified and that others had no reason to doubt my actions. I compensated for the lack of confidence I had in my body and my appearance with my personality and my words. But as TBHs became more popular and as I got older, my insecurities began to grow and I realized I needed to know what others thought about me. Maybe if other people told me I was pretty and awesome, then I would start to believe it. I could stop hiding myself in my 2 sizes too large jeans and my oversized Alaska jacket.
So I liked someone’s status to allow them to be honest about me. “You’re really funny and a great friend.” “You seem cool and you’re really good at soccer!” “You are funny and cool.” Wow, that last one really needed more effort. Regardless, though I did receive some compliments, I didn’t see the one word I was looking for — “pretty.”
I checked what other people wrote for my friends. “You’re so pretty and cool omg.” “Your gorgeous <heart eyes>.” Work on your grammar girl. Why wasn’t I pretty? In almost every other girl’s Instagram or Facebook that I had stalked, they had received that one compliment that I hadn’t. The LMS for a TBH was supposed to help me crawl out of my shell of baggy, mismatched clothes, not back into it.
I kept liking statuses, hoping that one girl would mess up and not realize who I was and tell me that I’m pretty. Instead of focusing on my kickass humor and soccer skills, which other people apparently noticed, I wallowed in my own pity, obsessing over a single word. I thought about it even more and realized that none of my friends ever called me “pretty.” They would look at each other and fawn over their looks, but I was always known as the funny girl.
Long story short, one girl in 8th grade told me I was pretty for the first time on an LMS for a TBH, and I began to slowly remove my insecurities one by one. Why did I need other people’s opinions to find confidence in myself? I was a sarcastic and honest person, and if people didn’t like me for who I was, they didn’t have to. I have now begun to accept my place amongst my friends as the “funny” girl even though sometimes I wonder what it’s like to be the “pretty” one.