A Second Glance

When I was in middle school, I remember sitting in class one day when a girl pointed at my bare legs and shouted “Oh my GOD! I HOPE you’re wearing white tights!” I wasn’t. I was (am) that pale.

I had always been teased about my fair skin but I had also been careful to wear sunblock and not burn, having had several severe sunburns. One even blistered so badly, it bled. I started wearing jeans year-round. It was easier for me to swelter through the hottest summer days than to bare my legs (that huge expanse of skin was, to me, more noticeable than my arms or other visible skin) and endure countless offhanded comments about my paleness, which I’d obsess over for days.

Middle school wasn’t kind. I was pale and skinny and I guess to some people, looked sick. I forgot my lunch one day and was getting a book from my locker to read during lunch period when my science teacher approached me. He put his hand on my shoulder and told me I didn’t have to hide anymore. I told him I wasn’t sure what I meant. He told me he’d seen me pick at my food and noticed that today I’d forgotten to bring any at all. He asked me if I was anorexic. I wasn’t.

Here I was, at a vulnerable time. My body was changing, but it was awkward and I was self-conscious. I had been told I was too pale and too skinny by my peers and now by an authority figure. My self-esteem was crushed.

It continued in high school, when I would not go swimming with my girlfriends or don a short dress for Homecoming. I was constantly in trouble for wearing sweatpants instead of shorts during gym class. I hated for people to watch me eat because I felt I was being hounded for signs of an eating disorder because of my slight build.

When I reached college, my self-esteem was in shreds. I was so timid I was afraid to even register for classes. I can’t say I’m completely self-assured, but something happened in those four years. It may have been the compliment I received from a favorite professor who told me I looked like a Renaissance painting. I was more self-assured in classes. I was an English major and a favorite of the faculty. As my mind grew, so did the idea of what beauty could be. I traveled to Europe and felt as though I fit in with the English rose beauties I saw prancing the streets of London. I was told I was smart and pretty. I’ve never bought into those adjectives completely. There will always be a little doubt. But somewhere along the line, as I developed my mind, I learned that I am what I am and that hiding it is the ugliest thing there is.