Meet Kelsey

Photo by: Rory M.

Hello Beauty Bloggers!

Let me (Rory) introduce you to my friend, Kelsey. When I was entering my junior year of high school, I transferred schools, and I attribute much of the quality of my transfer (and the remainder of my time in high school) to this girl. It's the typical cafeteria scene- New girl walks in, nobody notices, she shuffles left and right, thinks she recognizes someone, then doesn't. Finally, when she concludes that there's nowhere to eat but the corner bathroom stall, she's approached tentatively and invited to sit with some classmates. From there it was Shakespeare, prom dresses, writing poetry in Physics, AP exams, eating cookie dough in Chemistry, and eventually graduation. I'm a lucky gal, and am so excited to share my friend and her thoughts on health and body image. So without further ado, heeere's Kelsey!

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If you had asked me two and a half years ago, when I was halfway through my senior year and over one hundred pounds heavier, what I wanted out of being thin, one of my first answers would have been “to be desirable”. (Although if we’re truthful, it probably would have been phrased more coarsely, like “a boyfriend” or “to be hot”. I’d like to think my vocabulary and tact have matured a bit since then).  Fast forward, and if I could go back in time, I’d tell fat me “not so fast”. 

One of the things that happens when you’re young and heavy is that people are quick to define you by anything other than your weight. You become “you know, that junior that played the guard in the fall play” or “the girl with brown hair that ran the Christmas Toy Drive”. Anything to avoid stating the most obvious identifier as “the fat girl from English class”. In hindsight, it was a blessing in disguise: acquaintances and even strangers knew that I was smart, bold, driven, before I had a chance to show them.

I didn’t notice it right away, but being thin erased the need to identify me by my accomplishments. In conjunction with this, my talents were no longer recognized; it was no longer necessary knowledge that I was an actress or in the National Honor Society. People didn’t have to peel back the layers to find something pleasant to identify me with. I was pretty; that was enough.

This shift became even more obvious during my first real relationship. For the first time in my life, I would frequently feel like I was only valued for my appearance. It didn’t matter that I had landed a role in the newest Renaissance play or that I’d made the Dean’s list for three consecutive semesters. That I was smart or clever or kind was suddenly a bonus, an afterthought. I was an object, a trophy, a pretty little number on my man’s arm. I was something to ogle, something for my boyfriend’s friends to congratulate him for obtaining. Something. No one had to look past my appearance to find value in my intelligence, wit, or charisma. And sometimes I wished they would. 

It’s a sad situation in society where the layers of a person are judged from appearance in. I’ve learned that in order to remain in someone’s memory as someone of substance, I have to project that substance that much more.  It’s difficult not to get cynical, but I’m learning that although society will always judge me appearance-first, I can give them more on top of it. I can be friendly and kind and honest and sarcastic and pretty. My outer beauty doesn't have to be my only beauty if I don't let it be. 

Kelsey