Being an early bloomer is a very odd experience for a girl.
I vividly remember getting teased on the playground, solely because I looked a heck of a lot less like a 10 year old, and more like a middle schooler. I mean, I felt like a kid on the inside, but looked like a grown up on the outside!
Or so I thought.
Looking back at pictures, I realize how ridiculously young I was AND looked. I essentially gave myself a complex, as we often do when we’re “different”.
I remember having this same feeling on my last birthday when I saw a photo of myself. In the picture, I was positively glowing, as the Kansas City skyline framed me. It was the perfect picture to reflect the inward joy I was feeling. Yet, as my eyes scanned over the photo, I was inwardly critiquing the way my shirt fit, how my makeup looked, and finally, how enormous my hips were.
“Oh, dear God, are they that big in real life?!” I think I even asked it out loud.
Feelings of embarrassment and shamefulness came welling up in me once again, just as they had on the playground 14 years before. But rather than deleting the photo and succumbing to the self-conscious habits of 24 years of life, I reacted differently this time.
I posted the heck out of that photo. It ended up on my old blog. And even on Facebook, too! I refused to be stifled by my insecurities.