THE GIRL THING
From middle school to high school, whenever I felt like I was an ugly freak, or something that just didn't belong anywhere (which was often), I would imagine myself with big monster-like feet. Heavy feet, that would usually be dragon-esque in my mind, with big black claws that padded the ground with every step as I shuffled down the glossy hallways. My big, over-filled backpack weighed me down and made me feel heavy, like some kind of kaiju or large reptile.
Sometimes I would imagine that my hands were large and clawed. Like they were too big, and they hung at my sides heavily, lazily scraping the textured walls as I passed by with long claws.
To match my big hands and feet, I would imagine myself a tail. I would imagine it so vividly that it felt like what people would describe as a "phantom limb". I would feel it waving behind me, a big, heavy nuisance to me, weighing me down along with everything else on my body.
These parts of me would change constantly. Sometimes they were scaled, other times they would be coated with long fur. It would usually be long, sometimes waving in the air behind me, or dragging on the ground behind me. But during the brief moments I imagined them, they would feel as real as every other part of me did; or vice versa- they would feel as unreal to me as the rest of my body did.
I couldn't really tell you why I did this. I can't think of any satisfying answer for us both other than this:
I felt like a freak. I was a freak. Something that didn't belong, something that wasn't meant to be in the body it had. I was a hodgepodge of different creatures; a monster. Something dead on the side of the road that was unidentifiable from the creature that it had been. Something that shifted with the light, something that changed every time you cared to look at it.
For most of my life I felt this way. I felt like some agitated, scared animal, constantly cornered. Like a rattlesnake being prodded at with a pitchfork, ready to strike out of fear at anything unfortunate enough to be in my way. I spat venom. I was confused. I was in a very dark place, and I didn't know why. I didn't belong on earth; I didn't belong in the body of a 13 year old girl. I wanted nothing more than to be anything else but me.
At some point, at around 19 years old or so, something in me changed. I don't know when it happened, but it snapped in place like a dislocated limb.
My brain said:
"Maybe kindness isn't as hard as we think it is."
I know it sounds dumb, but it worked. I started being kinder to people. I started being kinder to myself. It changed everything. It was hard, but easy at the same time. It took time.
I wore makeup, I started dressing nicer. I got my hair cut. I took care of myself, and it yielded results. I felt better about myself. I yearned to be accepted. I needed it. I wanted to be a pill that could easily be swallowed. People actually liked me? You're kidding, right? This thing? Am I just tricking everyone? Am I tricking myself? I don't think I am, but I might be. Is it wrong to be like this?
My tail was still there.
Always, in the back of my mind, I knew. Something is still wrong with me. No matter what I wear, or how I paint my face, the scales are still there. There's something writhing in my heart that wants to get out. I feel like a donkey wearing the skin of a girl.
But this change in mindset was still a positive one. I learned that I wasn't as awful and unlovable as I thought. That I deserved the luxury of caring about myself. There are people out there who think alligators are beautiful. People who think horses are beautiful, with their weird veiny hides and their sweaty coats. People who think birds are beautiful, people who think possums and leeches and microbes and worms are beautiful.
And there are, apparently, people who think I'm beautiful, too.
All creatures are beautiful. No matter what, there is someone out there who admires them. And that can be applicable to me, too.
So I love myself, despite everything. Despite my hands, and my feet, and my tail and my teeth. I think I'm deserving of love. I'm beautiful in my own way, even though I'm a strange, upsetting creature. I want to love, and to be loved. I want to exist as I am, freely.
It's hard. I still imagine myself with these phantom limbs sometimes. But it's fun now. A little more whimsical. I can be anything I want. I want to express myself in different, unique ways. I want to see the beauty in everything, including myself. I want to spread kindness genuinely. I want to belong, but I want to do it in a way that is true to myself. I yearn to change and better myself, to shed old skin and grow new, beautiful scales.
I want to be the creature that I am.
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