Recognition

"We are teenage girls.When we go home...Our straightened hair goes up into messy buns.Our makeup has faded or smudged so we take it off.The fake smile vanishes into how we really feel.Our brand new shirt changes into our favorite old sweater. Our skinny jeans are traded for sweat pants or pajamas.And our Uggs are taken off to reveal our fuzzy socks.When we go home...You wouldn't recognize us."
My friend emailed me a link to this Facebook Group, and at first, I was confused, thinking she expected me to sympathize with it. Her, who hunts in consignment stores with me, who avoids hair straighteners, and would swear off makeup all together if it weren't for the allure of bright colors. Her, who, while skinny, tall, and gorgeous, has no problem in pajama pants, dungarees, sweatshirts. "Blog about this," she told me, "explain it."

It's funny, because even when they get home, they all look the same. In messy buns, no makeup, old sweaters, sweatpants, and fuzzy socks. I don't straighten my hair. I've come to love the mass of unruly curls. Makeup is limited, and I smile only when I really feel happy. Shopping means nothing, new clothes mean nothing. If my favorite old sweater is available, so it will be worn during the day. Skinny jeans are uncomfortable, Uggs are cruel. But in whatever I do, in whatever I wear, I'm always me.

I would be recognized at school, home, socializing, anywhere. Because I never hide who I am. The same can be said for you. Recognition is only possible if people know who you are. And people can only know who you are if you do. I pity the girls who don't get recognized. Who feel so pressured to cover up, just under the label of teenage girls, that nobody knows who they are.