Today a friend and I were talking about the point at which we became less self-conscious. When we realized the rest of the world isn’t interested in our slightest mess-ups. No one is laughing behind our backs or keeping tallies of our slips on a score sheet.
I remember the day rather clearly. It was only a couple years ago. I was in my office in Seattle and feeling self conscious about my outfit. I wasn’t wearing the right shoes, or I wore those jeans two days before or my skirt was a little too short. I don’t remember the issue, but I do remember feeling uncomfortable about it. Then it hit me. If I closed my eyes, I couldn’t tell you want the people on either side of me were wearing. I hadn’t paid much attention. Perhaps they were feeling equally silly about their shoe choice or hem length. That’s when I realized no one else cares what I do. I mean that in the best way, not a sulky, no-one-cares-about-me way.
But that simple realization was a game changer in my life. No longer was I going to concern myself with little things like that. My friend today told me she had a similar epiphany, and it happened in her mid-to-late 20s, like mine. It’s something I wish we could tell younger generations, but maybe it’s just one thing each lady needs to learn on her own. But ohmygosh, if I could give my niece one gift, this knowledge would be it. I wish she didn’t have to waste a moment of her early years concerning herself with what others thought of her. Childhood is tough. There’s a lot that needs figuring out. And thank god we never have to do it again.
I’m a journalist, content strategist, doting auntie, amateur bobsledder, fitness enthusiast, and wannabe health nut (who loves chocolate and pizza too much to fully commit). I don't want you to think my life is perfect. It's not.