Confessions of a stylish teenager

There was a time back in my life where I got caught between reading vogue magazines and tuning on TV shows with the likes of Tyra Banks. This was when I discovered that in order to look beautiful I needed to change my wardrobe. I decided that everyone had to notice me since I was going to become the next fashion icon.

Monday, March 29, 2010

There was a time back in my life where I got caught between reading vogue magazines and tuning on TV shows with the likes of Tyra Banks.

This was when I discovered that in order to look beautiful I needed to change my wardrobe. I decided that everyone had to notice me since I was going to become the next fashion icon.

Somewhere between my friends discussions I discovered what it meant to be hot. I mean, my mother has always said I am beautiful but that’s just her opinion, she is a mother.

Since the day I discovered short skirts and tight jeans, I felt perfect. That’s when it all changed. That’s when I started dressing to impress my friends’ more than I cared for myself. Every time I picked up something new, all I wanted was for it to be perfect in their eyes.

Like countless young women today, I lived with one foot in the world and the other in the murky waters of Christian compromise.  I lived my life only two or three steps ahead of the culture’s standards or so I thought.

When it came to role models – I revered popular young singers and movie stars as my design consultants. My lifestyle eventually became too expensive for my parents so they stooped giving me enough money to buy the outfits.

This would make me really mad since I couldn’t understand why they were doing this to me. I needed to be glamorous so bad that I didn’t care what anyone thought.

My awakening came one day as I was walking in town. I was wearing this extremely short skirt when I heard certain women whispering in disgust "What has become of our children today?”

"Why were the women disgusted, where had I gone wrong and what is wrong with what I was wearing?” I thought as I felt embarrassed about my clothes for the first time.

I was hurt so bad but this got me thinking really hard.
Years later, I now realise that I was wrong. I allowed clothes to define me because I had let people decide for me what ‘Beautiful’ meant. Now I know that beauty is deep.

Meaning, it’s more in my character than in my curves. I wish every teenager knew that true beauty lies in self-respect, humility and love for one another.

Ends