The Self Esteem Factor

There are lots of UNglamorous things about getting older, but to be fair, there are a few truly AWESOME things that come with advanced age. One of them? Feeling comfortable in your own skin.

Sure, I still hate my curly hair. My eyes could be bigger. My butt rounder. My cheekbones higher. But I know that I will always hate these things. I've ACCEPTED that I will always hate them and have come to peace with the hate.

Unlike in middle school and high school and even college - I rarely stress about my looks, if I'm wearing this season's "it" outfit, if I'm part of the "cool crowd."

Do I still care about the zit that is currently perched on chin? Sure. Do I try to (unsuccessfully) cover it up? Of course. But do I spend hours stressing over it? Hardly.

Eye rolls, judgemental looks from passerbys, snubs by the male gender - they roll much more smoothly over my now thick skin.

Even the ridiculous comments made by my family don't faze me quite as much.

For example, back in the day, when I was 13 and my self esteem was probably a negative 25, I used to pose in front of my bedroom mirror. Very Next Top Model. One day I asked my mom, in a vulnerable, teen moment, I said, "Mom, do you think I'm pretty."

Her response: "Honey, I mean, you're no supermodel but..." She might have said something nice after the "but" but I can't remember, nor do I think I even heard it.

I mean, HELLO!?!? I'm her daughter. Aren't I supposed to look like supermodel even if I was gangly with frizzy hair and no boobs?!?!

To this day, I remind her of this and she (conveniently) says she has no memory of this conversation.

But now, when my mom says: "But Kimmie, you look 100 times better with straight hair," I get mad. But not AS mad.

I calmly, confidently, in a very self assured manner, blame my genetic flaws on her.