Confidence
Hello there, people of the inter-webs. Today, I want to tell you guys a story about how a few clothes, a good friend, and 5 words changed my whole point of view.
I've never been the skinniest person or the prettiest person, so I've been self conscious about the way I looked for years. I really started to notice when I was about 10. I somehow got it in my head that I was ugly.
It didn't help that my parents were also self-conscious. They would go on diets, and they would make the rest of the house follow along. They weren't very healthy diets either. Any random diet they found on the internet that was promising to lose 20 pounds in a week or two was worth a shot to them.
I don't want you guys to think I had terrible parents or anything. They would always tell me I was cute, pretty, beautiful, etc... But children will always follow their parents’ example rather than their words. Since my parents hated looking at themselves in the mirror, I also grew to hate my own reflection.
I remember hating to shop for clothes because I thought everything would look ugly on me anyways.. Or I would tell myself, "I can buy better clothes when I get skinnier. I don't want to spend a whole bunch of money on clothes because if I'm going to lose weight then they won't fit me anymore and that would be a waste of money." That's the track that my train of thought chose to take.
Eventually, I got tired of waiting around for that someday to come, so I started to buy a few things that I liked. I didn't really know what I wanted my style to look like, and I still hated trying. I thought since I was ugly what could clothes do? Whenever I looked for clothes, I thought to myself, "Will other people think I look okay in this?" So, I was shopping for others instead of myself.
Then one bright and sunny day in April of 2016, a weirdo moved to Oregon. My cousin, Taya, had moved back from Iowa. She is one of the friendliest people you could ever meet. She has so many friends that she probably can't even count them all. She's funny, smart, talented, and has very good fashion sense. I will always be grateful to her for the part she has played in my story. I love her to the moon and back again.
I started hanging out with her a lot and we would go to the mall about once a week. I would see the weird clothes she would pick and actually manage to pull off. She would pick the craziest pieces and had such confidence in them that it made her look beautiful. It seemed like she could wear anything she picked up simply because she believed she could.
I figured if she could wear something that looks like a rug from someone's basement in the 90's and still look good, surely there has to be something that will look good on me. I started to look for clothes that I liked instead of things I thought others would like. A few times I've even used her "That's ugly. I want to try it on," tactic. I've even found a few things I love that way too. Sometimes it's just about giving it a chance. 😂😅
She would tell me I was cute, pretty, beautiful, etc. just like my parents did. But this time, since she believed in herself, it felt more genuine. Sure, there are things she's self-conscious about as well, but she didn't let that stop her from feeling beautiful.
As time went on I started to get a little more confident and I liked my clothes a lot better. I was wearing make-up to help myself feel better too. Still, I could feel that my insecurities weren't gone. It felt a little like, if I didn't try hard I would still go back to the ugly Ashley. The one I wanted to hide away in a closet.
I went through a phase where I was okay with how I looked if I was dressed up and had make up on... but, when you took those out of the picture, I still didn't feel okay with myself. It's like if I didn't have those things I wasn't comfortable in my own skin. I still felt like something was missing.
At the beginning of 2018 I found a new church that I absolutely love. (You can read more about that in my other blog post) When I was sitting in church one of the pastors started praying for the new people like he does every week... So I started praying a prayer of my own.
Early that week I had been studying the crucifixion. (Which you can read too right here.) I was trying my best not to cry. As I was asking God why he would let Jesus go through all of that. Why on earth would he let his only son get tortured and killed on my behalf. I'm nothing special. I'm just ordinary. I've messed up so many times. I'm not good at things that I should be good at. I'm not that brave. I'm not worth it, I'm nowhere near worth it. So why....
I remember hearing Him interrupt my useless rambling with a simple phrase. "Because I love you, Ashley." At that moment I couldn't hold back my tears any longer. These five simple words had so much meaning in them. As I sat there and cried, it truly felt like I was being hugged.
In a single moment those words had overturned every lie the devil had ever told me about myself. They had told me I was fearfully and wonderfully made. That, before I was even formed in my mother's womb, He knew me. He loved me more than anyone ever could have or ever would in the future. He sacrificed His son for me because I am one of His own. He made me perfectly imperfect so that His goodness can shine through my imperfections. He made me just the way I was supposed to be. He made no mistake in any part of me.
That's when I realized if that much thought went into making me, then how could I hate myself. I'm not perfect, but neither is anyone else. How could I hate something God has created.
I am happy to say that I now feel just as comfortable all dressed up, and fancy as I do in a sweatshirt and no makeup on. I do still like to dress up half the time, but I'm not bothered if I don't get to. I don't have to hide behind my make up or clothes or any of it. I'm finally comfortable in my own skin and it is an amazing feeling.
Let me get this part straight. I'm not saying I have my life together and I have nothing to work on, because I do. Every day I strive to be a better me than I was yesterday. But I need to love myself just the way I am or I'll never be able to move forward. I still have a lot of things I need to tackle, but this particular issue I no longer have to deal with. It's taken a little over 11 years now for me to be able to say it, but I think I'm beautiful. ❤️
I've never been the skinniest person or the prettiest person, so I've been self conscious about the way I looked for years. I really started to notice when I was about 10. I somehow got it in my head that I was ugly.
It didn't help that my parents were also self-conscious. They would go on diets, and they would make the rest of the house follow along. They weren't very healthy diets either. Any random diet they found on the internet that was promising to lose 20 pounds in a week or two was worth a shot to them.
I don't want you guys to think I had terrible parents or anything. They would always tell me I was cute, pretty, beautiful, etc... But children will always follow their parents’ example rather than their words. Since my parents hated looking at themselves in the mirror, I also grew to hate my own reflection.
I remember hating to shop for clothes because I thought everything would look ugly on me anyways.. Or I would tell myself, "I can buy better clothes when I get skinnier. I don't want to spend a whole bunch of money on clothes because if I'm going to lose weight then they won't fit me anymore and that would be a waste of money." That's the track that my train of thought chose to take.
Eventually, I got tired of waiting around for that someday to come, so I started to buy a few things that I liked. I didn't really know what I wanted my style to look like, and I still hated trying. I thought since I was ugly what could clothes do? Whenever I looked for clothes, I thought to myself, "Will other people think I look okay in this?" So, I was shopping for others instead of myself.
Then one bright and sunny day in April of 2016, a weirdo moved to Oregon. My cousin, Taya, had moved back from Iowa. She is one of the friendliest people you could ever meet. She has so many friends that she probably can't even count them all. She's funny, smart, talented, and has very good fashion sense. I will always be grateful to her for the part she has played in my story. I love her to the moon and back again.
I started hanging out with her a lot and we would go to the mall about once a week. I would see the weird clothes she would pick and actually manage to pull off. She would pick the craziest pieces and had such confidence in them that it made her look beautiful. It seemed like she could wear anything she picked up simply because she believed she could.
I figured if she could wear something that looks like a rug from someone's basement in the 90's and still look good, surely there has to be something that will look good on me. I started to look for clothes that I liked instead of things I thought others would like. A few times I've even used her "That's ugly. I want to try it on," tactic. I've even found a few things I love that way too. Sometimes it's just about giving it a chance. 😂😅
She would tell me I was cute, pretty, beautiful, etc. just like my parents did. But this time, since she believed in herself, it felt more genuine. Sure, there are things she's self-conscious about as well, but she didn't let that stop her from feeling beautiful.
As time went on I started to get a little more confident and I liked my clothes a lot better. I was wearing make-up to help myself feel better too. Still, I could feel that my insecurities weren't gone. It felt a little like, if I didn't try hard I would still go back to the ugly Ashley. The one I wanted to hide away in a closet.
I went through a phase where I was okay with how I looked if I was dressed up and had make up on... but, when you took those out of the picture, I still didn't feel okay with myself. It's like if I didn't have those things I wasn't comfortable in my own skin. I still felt like something was missing.
At the beginning of 2018 I found a new church that I absolutely love. (You can read more about that in my other blog post) When I was sitting in church one of the pastors started praying for the new people like he does every week... So I started praying a prayer of my own.
Early that week I had been studying the crucifixion. (Which you can read too right here.) I was trying my best not to cry. As I was asking God why he would let Jesus go through all of that. Why on earth would he let his only son get tortured and killed on my behalf. I'm nothing special. I'm just ordinary. I've messed up so many times. I'm not good at things that I should be good at. I'm not that brave. I'm not worth it, I'm nowhere near worth it. So why....
I remember hearing Him interrupt my useless rambling with a simple phrase. "Because I love you, Ashley." At that moment I couldn't hold back my tears any longer. These five simple words had so much meaning in them. As I sat there and cried, it truly felt like I was being hugged.
In a single moment those words had overturned every lie the devil had ever told me about myself. They had told me I was fearfully and wonderfully made. That, before I was even formed in my mother's womb, He knew me. He loved me more than anyone ever could have or ever would in the future. He sacrificed His son for me because I am one of His own. He made me perfectly imperfect so that His goodness can shine through my imperfections. He made me just the way I was supposed to be. He made no mistake in any part of me.
That's when I realized if that much thought went into making me, then how could I hate myself. I'm not perfect, but neither is anyone else. How could I hate something God has created.
I am happy to say that I now feel just as comfortable all dressed up, and fancy as I do in a sweatshirt and no makeup on. I do still like to dress up half the time, but I'm not bothered if I don't get to. I don't have to hide behind my make up or clothes or any of it. I'm finally comfortable in my own skin and it is an amazing feeling.
Let me get this part straight. I'm not saying I have my life together and I have nothing to work on, because I do. Every day I strive to be a better me than I was yesterday. But I need to love myself just the way I am or I'll never be able to move forward. I still have a lot of things I need to tackle, but this particular issue I no longer have to deal with. It's taken a little over 11 years now for me to be able to say it, but I think I'm beautiful. ❤️
P.s special thanks to Taya for being an amazing human. She's brave, she's kind, and she's one of my very best friends. ❤️
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