third-grade me would be obsessed

you know what has recently been the bane of my existence? acne. 

before anyone gets their panties in a twist saying, "it's not even that bad! you have nothing to complain about! you should see myyy acne..." I know. It's truly relatively mild. 

but that's the thing about insecurity: it doesn't really care if other people have it worse. anyways, we shouldn't be comparing ourselves to others, right? well, the alternative is comparing yourself to your past self - and my past self had glossy, clear skin. my past self got about four pimples a year. 

like many other young adults, my body has gone through many changes over the years. clothes don't fit the same, my hair isn't as thick, and - oh yea - i now have acne.

lately, as i spend time observing my face in the mirror and missing my clear skin, i can't help but remember what my younger self wished for.

as the youngest of six girls, i was always well aware of what maturing women look like and i couldn't wait to be one myself. i remember being in third grade and thinking that older girls with textured skin were so mature and real and lovely. i could not wait for the day that i got acne. 

what can i say, third-grade me knew nothing... 

like, one day my older sister was getting dressed to go to the beach and i was hanging out with her and admiring her as i normally did. she asked me how she looked in her bikini and i said she looked great and that her thighs looked soft and had all these little dents on them. she became so upset with me and i had no idea why!

i later learned that what i was describing to her was cellulite, and apparently, cellulite was not something people desired to have on their thighs. this was news to me. 

you see, i was so enamored by all of these little things that apparently made my older sisters insecure.

i can't help but consider what third-grade me would think of the way i look now.

she would think that my acne was the coolest thing ever. she would be obsessed with the cellulite on my thighs and the stretch marks on my hips. she would think i looked so womanly and mature. 

she didn't know to think of those things as bad because no one had told her yet; she naturally saw them as beautiful. 

just when i think that i'm becoming so much wiser with age, moments like these remind me to hold on to some of the perspectives i had as a little girl. i may have been young and inexperienced, but i was also untainted by the harsh perspectives of society.  

listen: would i prefer glossy, clear skin? duh.

but maybe from time to time, i'll borrow third-grade me's perspective and appreciate my appearance; not in spite of my imperfections, but because of them. 

- jenica nieto

blog #4