“She’s a solid 2”

I have a story. And it’s a story that I try to block out of my mind because it’s not conducive to my self-worth or my self-esteem. I have been experiencing one of those weeks where I hate the way I look. And unfortunately, my go to response in those moments is to pull every memory from my life that would solidify all of my insecurities and replay then in my head over and over again like a sad feature film.

This is one of them.

It’s circa 2006 and I’m at a party in Sterling. I can overhear two guys in the corner talking about me. One asks, “What would you rate Jordan on a scale of 1-10?”

He looks my way and replies without hesitation, “A solid 2”.

A freaking 2?

I was gutted.

It’s one thing to hear what someone says about you through the grapevine. Their remark still hurts but you almost feel removed from it. It’s another thing to hear it firsthand. I watched this boy look me up and down, and without hesitation, he gave me “a solid 2”.

I’m 16 at the time so I already have a bagful of insecurities. My acne is bad. I probably still have braces on. I wished I was blonde and blue eyed. I was skinny but didn’t know it. I longed to be loved but felt like I was unloveable (likely because I wasn’t pretty enough). And this boy at this party who knew nothing about me, must have it all right. I’m a 2. I heard it with my own ears. It had to be true.

For the last week, I have avoided my reflection in the mirror. I felt like every flaw on my face is magnified. I hate my body. I’m avoiding people. I’m honestly feeling like a freaking 2.

By default, I’m searching my mind for all of my most painful memories to convince myself of just how ugly and fat I am. I have more stories. Some are equally as hurtful as the one I am sharing today. Nevertheless, I’m replaying them over and over again in my head. Remember this one, Jordan? What about this one? How did you block this one out, she’s a real stinger? I have literally laid in bed replaying awful memories just to convince myself of my unworthiness.

What in the actual hell am I doing to myself?

I’m sure that even the most beautiful woman on the planet has a story, right?

I bet money on it.

Why can’t I remember every heartfelt compliment I have ever received? Why is my go to response not to challenge my insecurities but instead validate them?

I’m trying to figure this out. I’m trying to love myself, flaws in all. I try really hard. But some weeks, I fail at it. Writing it all out, helps me process what I’m feeling. I don’t even have an answer until I get to the end. And then it just clicks.

That boy in the corner of that party, didn’t know that his comment would still hurt me 15 years later. That’s important to think about. Our words, the things we say, especially the mean things...seem to stick. They seem to stick stronger than the nice things. Remember that. Teach your children that.

Physical beauty is fleeting. Internal beauty is not. It’s forever.

Rate me what you want.

My heart is a 10.

💖