To the Desdemonas,

To the good girls who play by the rules, to the ones who never stay out past 10 PM, smoke pot, or flirt with the boys. To the ones who are pretty, smart, with a smile that can make anyone’s day. To the girls who could carry the whole world on their shoulders without breaking a sweat: what is it like to be SO perfect?

What is it like to wake up at 4 AM looking like a goddess? What is it like to always have clear skin, fit body, shiny, long hair, and be so beautiful all the time? How does it feel to be the envy of other girls and have all the guys going after you? How do you not show up in *gasps* sweatpants to school? Someone always has to drag me out of my bed in the morning, I wear those star stickers all the time to get rid of my blemishes, and my hair is a rat’s nest! I put on like, 10 products for my skin and my face is still pimply. I

How are you an 11/10 so effortlessly? What are your secrets?

From,

Anonymous

Dear anonymous,

Here’s my secret: I wasn’t always like this anon. I was unpopular because my body grew faster than most girls’, so I had big thighs and hips when everyone else my age had sticks for limbs. It didn’t help that my face was riddled with pimples. No one took me seriously, not even my teachers.

I tried to be nice. The times I’ve let people cut in front of me, done their homework for them ( I get good grades), and given people the cookies the school served for lunch never won their hearts. I got tired. So I curled my hair regularly, dressed up, put on makeup, you know, that kind of thing. My skin cleared and my fat distribution evened out as I grew up.

I had lots of friends by the time I got to middle school. I never stirred the pot to make sure people would like me, going along with whatever everyone was doing. I maintained a solid 4.0 and joined the volleyball team. It was stressful and I never slept before 12 AM, but I covered the physical effects under a thick layer of foundation. It was worth it, after all, people like me, or so I thought. One day, I was sitting in the school library behind a shelf when I heard my friends talking about me. They accused me of trying to steal their boyfriends and being, well, too friendly with boys. I made the mistake of getting into a relationship to disprove them.

To me, he was everything. Although I got with him for my own benefit, he grew on me over the months. To him, it was cool to be dating the hot girl, but he didn’t feel the same way about me. When he cheated on me, I broke up with him. Not long after the break up, he told all of his friends I was cheating on him and that HE was the one who broke up with me. My friend group believed in him and left me alone at the lunch table we used to sit at. I confronted him, and he said that’s what I get for breaking up with him. I tried to tell my side of the story, the truth, to my friends, to those who derided me, to those who scorned and laughed at me. No one took me seriously.

I thought I was smart. From the moment my “friends” invited me to sit with them at lunch, I thought I won. I wasted three years of my life trying to please people, only to realize this is virtually impossible. I guess “the further you go, the less you know. (3)” I was betrayed by a person I loved, by people I thought I could rely on, abandoned by people who I thought liked me for who I am. Yet they wouldn’t believe an attractive girl would be cheated on by her boyfriend, not the other way around. Why? Because “though destitute of virtue or seeking pleasure elsewhere, or devoid of good qualities, yet … must be constantly worshiped as a god…” I could look like a “goddess” and they’ll still think I’m a succubus. What is it that they do when they change us for others? Is it sport? (4.3.108-109)

I regret changing myself for other people. I regret letting people trample over me so that I could win their approval. I now know their approval means nothing. Had I spent those three years looking for people with hearts that weren’t so shallow, I would be spared much heartbreak and tears. Anon, if you want to dress up and look pretty, go ahead. Strive for those good grades and exercise, I’m not saying it’s a bad thing. But do it for yourself. Don’t do it for a boyfriend, friends, teachers, or anybody. It’s not worth it. You’ll find people who love you, whether you’re in a skirt or sweatpants.

Sincerely,

A “Desdemona”