Confidence… What’s That?

I’m obsessed with other girls.

Not in romantic or sexual way, but with fascination. I gaze at every girl I see, whether that’s on the street or on my Instagram feed. How does she do her makeup like that? Her hair is incredible, why doesn’t mine look like that? She’s doing so well, and I’m just struggling. I pour over their aesthetics and criticise mine.

I’ve never been confident; in body or mind. It’s not like I was horrifically bullied or put down in any way. I’ve just never been sure of myself. Even as I write this I worry about the inadequacy of my words. I never put my hand up in class for the fear of being wrong. I don’t dress the way I want to, because it’s safer to disappear into the background than to stand out. I didn’t write anything for myself for months because nothing was ever good enough.

I’ve never been good at receiving compliments. I think this is a quality all shy people share as it means for a second someone was paying a great deal of attention towards us. A few days ago my boyfriend pointed out two freckles on my back. I immediately wanted to cover them in embarrassment, but he stopped me saying that he loved them. When I asked him why he answered: “I love everything that makes you different”.

That’s when it clicked.

I don’t have to look like that girl on the train, or that makeup guru on YouTube. Another woman’s beauty is not the absence of mine. Flowers and fairy lights are both beautiful, but they’re not comparable. The best thing about me is that there is only one of me.

So, yes, I’ll still have those days where I have to hide my hair under a hat, or get lipstick on my teeth. I’ll still gaze at other girls and wonder how they get their winged liner so even. But I won’t spend my life wishing I was them, because sometimes I’m them, and they’re me.