Pretty

pretty

ˈprɪti/

adjective

(of a person, especially a woman or child) attractive in a delicate way without being truly beautiful.

beautiful

ˈbjuːtɪfʊl,-f(ə)l/

adjective

pleasing the senses or mind aesthetically.

Disclaimer: I’ve never found myself to be pretty. In fact, like most people, I struggle to convince myself that I look socially acceptable on a daily basis. I’ve compiled a list of my flaws and I constantly try to mark as many of these flaws off this list. However, I cannot deny the amount of unwanted attention I’ve received over the years because of how different I look from everyone else.

But what does it mean to be pretty?

What does being pretty bring you?

In today’s society, it’s no secret that women, even young girls, get pressurized into thinking that they have to look a certain way to be considered pretty. Plenty of people go under the knife to achieve society’s unrealistic beauty standards. We know the downsides society’s beauty standards can bring about, but what does it mean to be on the other side of the spectrum in the eyes of other people? The other side of the spectrum being an aesthetically adequate and a visually satisfying person.

It’s not that impressive.

I’ve led a life without social media for the past 2 years, (not counting Tumblr, Carousell and Pinterest as I use them to express myself, look for items to buy and to learn hacks). Back when I was about 16, which was 3 years ago, I was social media savvy. I documented my day and showed people what I wanted to show them about myself. I showed people enough to let them know me but not enough to know about my private life. I felt comfort from expressing myself by this mean and I enjoyed every video I made and every picture I took.

They meant something to me.

I gathered quite a stable following on Instagram with a solid 4 digit figured following and counting. I was elated to know that people took an interest in me. Or so I thought. They weren’t interested in me, they were interested in my physical being.

I walked around the streets with random people saying hello to me. I’d get messages from old and young girls telling me that I was pretty, cute, or hot. I’d have dozens of comments on each photo about my figure, my thigh gap, my lips, my nose. Everything. I had people ask me how I achieved a certain look or how I got my body and how I managed to keep my face so clean. I would tell them certain hacks that I knew worked for me and I would tell them everything that didn’t matter.

It was then that it hit me. Society has made people more superficial than they originally were supposed to be. These people didn’t really care about me. They cared about how I could help them achieve looks that they wanted to achieve. Don’t get me wrong, I love helping people and giving advice, but they did not care about me. They did not care to know or understand me. They did not care for my opinions neither did they care about my beliefs. They wanted to get to know me either to use me to garner a massive following or just to bang me…

It was depressing. I was alone.

I never felt more alone in a crowded place. (I’d like to think of Instagram as a place sometimes. A place for gatherings and interactions). No one sat down with me and asked me what I thought of the Boston Marathon bombings or what my views on Hamlet was or what I remembered about Paul Walker or Nelson Mandela. No one asked me about the story behind my artpiece and no one bothered to look into my thoughts, feelings, and my brain to try to know me for who I really am.

I was surrounded with people who didn’t know me. I was surrounded with people who pretended to know me. Surrounded with people who didn’t even care to know who I am or care to know what my aspirations are. They didn’t ask me what I wanted to do in life and no one asked me deep questions such as what I thought my life purpose was.

Looking back, I don’t know if it’s because of my age at that point in time. I was 16 and so was everyone around me. Maybe they were not matured enough to discuss serious topics such as these. There were more mindless conversations than meaningful ones. For whatever reason it is that they didn’t care, the point is that they didn’t. And I was alone.

To be pretty is to have superficial people come knocking at your door asking you how to look pretty instead of asking you what your hobbies are. To be pretty is to have people assume your thoughts and feelings based on your looks. Like assuming you’re so comfortable in your skin when you’re the most uncomfortable you’ve ever been. To be pretty is to have people ignore the fact that you have a brain and you have answers and opinions that you’d like to voice out. To be pretty is to be an involuntary “role model” of unrealistic beauty standards. To be pretty is to shut up and let your body be your voice, even though you wish people would give as much attention to your words as they do to your face. To be pretty is wishing you had a mask over your face when you walked down the street just so that you can take in the atmosphere without being bombarded with “hi”s and “hello”s. To be pretty is to be denied the chance of ever feeling that you are beautiful. You’ll never see the wonders your brain works for no one recognises you for your logical thinking and thus, discredits everything you say because “you’re too pretty to have anything sensible to say”. You’ll get manipulated into thinking that you’re here to please other people’s sense of sight and that there is nothing more to you than that.

Take a step back and realize that the attention doesn’t last forever. Take a step back and realize that you are more than your body. Take a step back and realize that these people don’t matter. You’ll feel alone, but crawl out from that dark place and find the group of people you’ll fit in with. Discuss ideas and current events with them. Enjoy poetry, literature and plays with them. Tease your eyes with the fascinating art works you can find at your local museum. Let go of the thought of having all the attention. Hang out with people who don’t care how you look (except if you’re too scantily clad and a creeper’s looking up your skirt). Go to a library and read non-fiction books and encyclopedias.

Take a step back to get to know yourself. Let yourself grow and let yourself bloom. Don’t get sucked in to the superficial and materialistic world that is today’s society.