The Dark Side of Pretty Privilege

..... I am opening up this space for the girlies: to vent, to complain, to talk about the feelings we don’t even allow ourselves to fully feel …….

When I first sat down to write this piece, I was going to explore the pros and cons of pretty privilege… but why? To convince people that being pretty is a burden? I didn't know what my angle was or why I felt called to write on this topic. After scrolling through the depths of Reddit and reflecting on the topic more, I came to the conclusion that the pros do indeed outweigh the cons. So, I closed my laptop and carried on with my day, thinking that this piece was not meant to be written. But I had this nagging desire in the back of my head to write something…

I realized I didn’t have to write this to pander to every perspective. I didn’t have to try and convince anyone of my point; I could just write to the girls and women who will understand. So here I am, opening up this space for the girlies: to vent, to complain, to talk about the feelings we don’t even allow ourselves to fully feel…

Okay… it’s just us now?

I feel like we need to get the obligatory gratitude out of the way. I am very grateful to be blessed with these “problems.” Everyone has problems, and I always say, since we have to have problems, I just want to have the best problems. And I would say the problems that come with pretty privilege aren’t too bad…

I remember my looks being commented on and complimented in some of my earliest memories. Many people told my mom she should get me into modeling or acting, and I remember my parents joking about how I could’ve been the Gerber baby. Instead of instilling confidence, you start to learn that your looks are the most valuable part of you. I was always a good student and a good athlete, yet the only thing I remember adults commenting on was my appearance. Now, I’m sure the grades and athletic achievements didn’t go completely unnoticed, but that’s not what has stuck with me all these years later.

There was this one experience I remember so clearly;

My mom, my best friends mom, and her sister were all hanging out in the kitchen while me and my best friend were hanging out and doing whatever 13 year olds do. We were walking through the kitchen and the moms stopped us for a minuet laughing my friends mom said “Shelby turn around.. look that’s my butt!”…. what did she mean?what was the joke? I’m not really sure to be honest ; but for context my mom and my friends moms were always commenting on how cute and bubbly my butt was so lovingly teasing me about it was normal.

I really don’t mean to roast my mom or the moms I was around growing up; I know they meant well but looking back it was inappropriate and thoughtless of them to comment so much on not just a young girls appereance but specfic body parts. By the time I hit puberty I was convinced my looks were my biggest asset.

When I was 16 and experiencing my first shred of independence having my own car the innocence of this was short lived. Grown men probably twice my age would approach me at gas stations asking how old I was. They looked uncomfortable and ashamed to ask; like they already knew the answer would make them feel even worse….why ask then?

When I told my mom about these experiences, she didn't seem upset. Instead, she expressed amazement at the audacity of men to approach her teenage daughter. Yet, there was still a glimmer of pride in her eyes. She didn’t have that experience, but somehow, my having it seemed to give her some sort of validation. I remember her saying something when I was older; she said she was just amazed she made something so beautiful. Her sentiment was sweet, and I know she truly meant it in the best way, but again, there was constantly so much value placed on my looks.

When the world gives you constant validation, you don’t learn how to cultivate it within yourself. In my teens and early 20s, I was constantly chasing this validation in the external world. The rise of Instagram and dating apps made this validation available 24/7 at the touch of a button.

This post has stumped me for a couple of days. How do I cultivate a space for other women to feel comfortable sharing their experiences? How do I explain how to recover from this? How do I end the piece on a positive note?

These are the questions that have blocked me from finishing this piece for a few days. Honestly, this is still something I am recovering from. It’s something that, even using the word “recovering” feels dramatic because I know so many people feel like their problems would be solved if they were prettier. But don’t we all kind of believe this? We buy makeup, get botox and lip fillers, get vampire facials and eyelash extensions, and are constantly looking for the best skincare. All in an effort to preserve what society has told us is our most valuable attribute.

I wish I could give you the five easy steps to find your value internally, but this is still something I am working on within myself. I’ve seen so much growth in the last few years, but I still sometimes think about the days that will eventually come when I stop getting approached and stared at. I wonder how old I’ll be when it happens for the last time and if I’ll be sad about it or relieved.

What I do know, though, is that every single one of us is SO much more than our looks. Women are smart, strong, intuitive beings. We are more powerful than we can even comprehend, and our bodies hold the keys to the future and the past. Don’t ever forget how inherently valuable you are just by being here and being you.

I love all of you reading, and I am so grateful you are here. I would love to hear your experiences in the comments!

Shelby xoxo