I don't know when I started hiding myself.
I think it came somewhere in between the baggy-autumn sweaters and the three inches of hair cut off of my head.
All I know is that I fold my arms a lot more than I used to. I can feel myself shrinking sometimes. I tell myself to put my chin up, shoulders back, smile.
This is how a confident person stands. I am a confident person. Right?
It's funny, because my last post was about what I think true beauty is. I guess I haven't internalized that myself.
Three weeks ago I stood in front of a bathroom mirror with the rest of my Relief Society presidency behind me. I was so frustrated with my hair and my face and my body. They kept encouraging me, telling me to say "Dang, girl! I look hot!" I couldn't do it. The words stuck in my throat. I went home and tried again. I tried to whisper at myself. I could barely do that.
Didn't I just go through a tough breakup? Didn't I just right an essay about how much I learned and grew from that? What happened there, people? Why do I walk across campus and feel like I weigh 250 pounds?
I guess I've been tucking myself away for long time, and I didn't even know.
So I don't really know where to look for it right now.
But here's the thing about me: I'm a fighter. I'm going to keep looking for that piece of me that I lost.
And hopefully I find much more in the process.