Throughout my school years, I didn’t think much of myself in the looks department. I felt a little smart since I had I scored 100% on the math section of the Indiana State standardized test in third grade. All of the adults around me seemed to think that was a big deal, so that felt good. I earned good grades, I behaved (in school at least) and I was nice. But there was one haircut in elementary school, after a bout with lice, that took me from long hair to pixie cut. I was convinced that I looked like a boy. I gained weight somewhere along the way. Then Santa gifted me a ‘Get In Shape Girl’ workout set. I already felt chubby, but the jolly guy confirmed it. I decided that pretty wasn’t a thing I was so I should stay quiet and try to not get noticed.
Near the end of 8th grade, I caught wind that a girl within my friend circle started talking smack about me. She didn’t like me and was ready for a fight. I wondered what had spurred her sudden change-of-heart and the other 13-year-olds were more than happy to fill me in. Lori said I was so stuck up that if it rained, I would drown, due to my nose being so highly held in the air. I remember being stunned when I heard this. There was a myriad of put downs she could have chosen for me – ridiculous overuse of hairspray to create an equally ridiculous fan of bangs above my forehead (see pic), physically a late bloomer, lack of money & therefore a lack of any current style of clothes (see pic again) and an extreme inability to ever approach a boy that I found attractive. I held so much self-doubt that it was baffling for someone to interpret my feelings as the exact opposite of what they were.
A middle school confrontation never took place. Although Lori’s exact words about my stuck-upness are etched in my brain, I haven’t a clue what happened to detour our scuffle. She and I parted ways after 8th grade graduation to attend separate high schools. We eventually did have our showdown, though. Rather than a hallway or back-alley brawl, we faced off on the tennis court. We both represented the first single’s position on the day our high schools competed. I was merely subbing in the spot that day as our lead player was out sick. My nerves were high until the match was over. It’s possible my two straight set, 6-0 / 6-0, victory made her once again feel like I was too full of myself. I was too happy to notice.
During my first year at the University of Indianapolis, I was on the other end of the confidence confusion. At cheer tryouts, a gorgeous brunette upper-class student came off as conceded. It was nothing she said, having been way less talkative than others, so my assumption was based on how she carried herself in a self-assured manner. Or, the more likely explanation for my speculation was how exposed my lack of confidence felt when I held myself in comparison. After making the squad, I got to know this young lady well and discovered a very kind, down-to-earth soul. She succumbed to the same mental battles all humans share: I looked stupid when I did that, I messed that up, and of course I have a big zit in the middle of my face during picture week. It turned out she was introverted and quiet…the person I now find myself to be when I’m attending an adult get-together stone sober. My stubborn desire to be right was able to concede, admitting that my first impression was wrong. I remembered having been on the receiving end of mistaken interpretations.
As an adult, the topic of confidence came up in a dinner conversation with a few long-time friends. I was only a few weeks deep into a new relationship while the others were all married for a decade or more. The ladies were interested in how I still desired sex, given that they could take it or leave it. They weren’t saying their partners were under performing, but simply felt that an indulgent nap or a scrumptious dessert offered just as much dopamine. I posited a correlation between sex drive and confidence. Then Me naively hadn’t considered all of the layers and nuances of confidence.
For example, I am proud of my meticulousness as a painter, but when I don a bathing suit, I question if my eyes are even open when I shave. At times I can’t shut up and in other moments I feel like a cat has my tongue. I perpetually hold simultaneous contrasting opinions about myself on any given number of topics. However, a recent statement I encountered while listening to a guided meditation stood out loud and clear: ‘To be confident is to be abundant.” My immediate thoughts upon hearing this? Oh, so confidence is magnetic and alluring to all things. And then…Damn, I’m screwed. I had never correlated self-assuredness to money. While I am able to make peace with feeling hairy and unglamourous, when my dolla dolla bills are affected, a spark is ignited. I decided some of my other stubborn habits and thoughts need to concede, be forgiven and released.
I’ve known people who seem successful at ‘Faking it ’til they make it’ but that’s not for me. I don’t bother lying to people because my face will give me away, so I am certainly not cut out for misrepresenting my self-assuredness to God, The Universe, Infinite Intelligence & Higher Power. I’ve obviously now discovered that humans, including myself, seem to misread insecurities and arrogances in all manners of ways, so their opinions (and social media approvals) most definitely need to be cut out of the equation altogether. Therefore, this confidence thing must come down to just me, myself and I. How do I truly feel about my complete self – mind, body & soul?
Being sure of myself isn’t about being perfect or having it all figured out. It can’t be because I’m not and I don’t. Instead, I’m discovering my confidence comes from knowing I’m making deliberate choices to create the best version of Today Me. Showing grace to a family member or a stranger adds to my self-worth, as does avoiding unhealthy food and drinks. Yoga, walking and running are great for my body and, in turn, my self-esteem. Providing myself with a needed respite, through meditation, a massage, a nap, or just a few deep breaths, enhances my well-being. My self-confidence follows suit. Boudoir pics, taken to capture (and provide concrete proof of) the pretty lady I’ve seen in the mirror at least a few times over the years boosted me when my resolve took a dip. Blaring Alicia Keys’ Girl on Fire and a new hairdo have both done the trick, too.
My 20-year-old daughter just recently began her path as an Esthetician. Whilst I wrote this blog post, she wrote the following for her program introduction: “I’ve figured out the importance of self-care and feeling confident within yourself.” My immediate thought upon reading this? How is she so much smarter at 20 than I was? My next notion: Yes, dear girl, spot on & I truly hope we all figure out the importance of complete mind, body and soul self-confidence in our own times.