Sometimes, I imagine myself in the shoes of Lizzie Velasquez,
the woman who's been termed as the Ugliest Woman on Earth and has a whole freaking YouTube video dedicated to her with this same title.
Let me tell ya a little bit about Lizzie. She's the woman who's been cursed with this incredibly rare disease that only 3 other people in this whole planet have- the Marfan Syndrome.
This disease allows no fat to EVER grow on her body. This forces her to eat like, in every 15 minutes or she'll just die.
To all those girls who sometimes whine, "OMG, if I don't eat this or that now, I'm gonna die, like right nowwww!", Lizzie actually will die if she doesn't eat every 15 minutes...
As you can probably imagine by now, yes, Lizzie is incredibly fragile. She looks almost like a porcelain doll. Her body so vulnerable, you'll be scared to touch her, for she might fall off.
I myself have read the comments that have been posted under that video of hers. And it makes me speechless.
Because the people who actually used their fingers and typed in those hateful words, could've been the punk guy sitting right next to you in class.
It could've been that older girl who likes to die her hair different colors of rainbow every week. It could've been that nerd guy, working at the local Starbucks. It could've been your brother.
It could be any of us. You'll never know.
When I imagine all these negativity aimed towards a woman who has done absolutely NOTHING .
What was her fault? She hadn't made herself have that syndrome, it's something she had since she was born. Who are you to say all that crap to her just because she looks the way she does?
Whenever I feel hesitant to meet my own eyes in the mirror, unconfident of my own image, I think of Lizzie.
And how she had had all those negativities from strangers just for the way her face, her body, her bony limbs and shiny hair looks.
I try to put myself in her shoes. Then I look at the mirror again and I'm Lizzie this time... I see her reflections on the mirror and I get this unintelligible beautiful alive ...
thing growing inside me, building and then crashing on the inner walls of my self-hatred.
And then I break into a thousand pieces.
I cry for myself.
I cry for my lack of appreciation towards my own person.
I cry for my lack of self-love.
I cry for Lizzie.
I cry for all the ignorant people who had never even bothered to think what it must've been for her to go through.
I cry for the world full of girls who had been told to look away from the mirror because they were told they were ugly.
I cry for the guys who had been bullied all their life and grow up to be insecure and vulnerable.
If I were her, I'd have broken into a million pieces and might never even find the strength to put myself back together ever again. But Lizzie hadn't.
She had to fight for what she wanted and she got what she wanted. She even had achieved the opportunity to give a Ted talk!
And I'm so, so, so proud of her! I might not have the luck to ever meet her in person, but I love her.
For all that she is and going on strong and determined despite the obstacles life throw at her.
For she had taught me to love myself.