“Barbie Dolls, Fried Chicken, and Fly-away Hair”

Physical appearance is incredibly overrated. Yet it’s what we thrive for. Every woman dreams of having the perfect size three, 36C cup size, with an existing (but firm) butt. Go ahead, scoff and say you’re not one of those people with low self-esteem when it comes to your image. Lie to yourself all you want. Every single person on this earth has at least one imperfection they complain about. You might say I have no room to talk since I’m the girl who can wear a 0-3 in juniors and still be able to breathe.

I can assure you I have my physical flaws. My toes and fingers are freakishly long and skinny and my stomach pokes out. These are just the beginning of my imperfect self. Sure, I can cover my toes up with shoes and I can suck in my stomach (as far as my fingers, well that’s pretty much a hopeless cause). But you know what? Those flaws are still there. They will probably always be there. I can’t say I’m thrilled about having them, but I’m becoming more comfortable with myself.

Unfortunately, the majority of teens are still obsessively complaining that their boobs are the size of mosquito bites, their butts are bigger than an elephant, and their hair is too frizzy (even when they’ve fried it with their flat irons more than the Colonel fries his extra crispy chicken). If I got a quarter every time someone screamed “Omigod! I have a gigantic zit!” I’d be rich. Who cares about a tiny red blemish that you completely camouflaged with layers of expensive makeup products? I definitely don’t. If you want to look perfect, talk to Joan Rivers. She’s had enough plastic surgery to qualify her as a legal Barbie doll.

Why do we try to be “perfect” in physical appearance? Does it really matter? Does God care if “Omigod! I have a freaking fly-away strand of hair”? Archbishop Vlazny mentioned something in his homily at our school mass on All Saints day that really made me think. He was talking about purgatory and how it could be a place where we can take a shower and put on our best church clothes and sweetest smiles. I know he was trying to use these examples as metaphors for cleaning up our act, but I still think everyone needs to ask themselves a simple, yet intriguing question. When it comes down to our final judgment, will God care who’s “pretty” or not? I personally believe that He won’t. I believe He is the only one who sees us at our worst, when we are broken down and crying and weak, and still sees the good and pure innocence in us. He knows what true suffering is. He experienced some of the worst pain through Jesus and He experiences it every time someone is hurting.

My point isn’t to make you feel bad for getting caught up in consumerism. We all do it. My point is to make you think. I want you to think of what your definition of pretty is. My definition of pretty is when you are finally able to see yourself as beautiful and accept your flaws and realize that they make you even more beautiful because they make you real. Is your definition in agreement with what God sees or what society sees? That’s not something anyone but you and God can decide.