Confidence
By Dani Meyler
Let me introduce you to the first underwhelming fact about myself; I am/was a tik toker. Yes, a "niche micro-influencer," if you will. My career came and went, ending after two years of chronic manphobia and horribly unfunny vlogs, which inevitably concluded with permanent banishment and stripping of my account. This minorly felt like an insult. The last 2 years were taken from me without even a check from the creator fund? Whatever. Nonetheless, one of the most asked questions I would get was, "How are you so confident?" backhanded compliment for sure, but also so true.
My internet presence was, for a time, a projection of who I wish I could be in real life. What I was able to put on the internet was entirely in my control, and I loved that; I loved that I could present myself in any way I wanted. However, like most things, that can only work for so long.
Starting at the beginning, in middle school, I totally went through the awkward phase, which by the way, is a phase we need to appreciate more. From what I can gather through extensive Instagram stalking and long, revealing gossip with my younger cousin, tweens are going from child cute to just pretty. It was undoubtedly humbling the first time I was exposed to this absolute madness, but then mildly horrifying and slightly unfair.
Back to me, though.
On top of falling victim to the Adidas Superstar and “holes with a side of jean” from Hollister, I was a horse girl. I was purely living my life in my awkward phase. That was until, of course, I became aware of my body. On all accounts, I was a healthy 12-year-old girl, but I stood out compared to my classmates and all the other girls in my grade. So badly I wanted to fit into this standard that everyone else fell into, I wanted to feel accepted and, obviously, included. At the same time, as I was becoming aware of the size of my thighs at age 12, my self-security was falling from my grasp, and I was no longer blissfully ignorant to the horrors of comparison. Middle school came and went, and shortly thereafter, my only two friends had moved away, and I was left to fend for myself in the treacherous environment of public high school in a wealthy, predominantly white town.
*Que "Material Girl" by Madonna*
Finding friends actually wasn't the most challenging part. I found great friends, most of whom I stuck with throughout all of high school (give or take a few fallen soldiers) who I am eternally grateful for because it could have been so much worse. However, I was not prepared for the "who can be the coolest here?" game. I was tirelessly engulfed in this competition of whatever insignificant “importance” loomed over us. It was like this never ending cycle of who could one up the other, or who could be the “most liked”. I was becoming a person so strayed and unauthentic to the person I really was, all because I was fitting in. Which is so epically overrated, just by the way. If I could take back all the hours I spent in the mirror staring at myself, trying to become a person I was not meant to be, I probably would be a much happier human. All honesty, I was losing every bit of myself for an aesthetic, a non-existent superficial title ingrained into us since childhood; popularity. It came to a point where I may have looked happy, and fit the standard that I wanted to fit so badly, but I couldn't have felt less happy or confident. I hated myself, really. I was an anxious, irrational mess that couldn't be bothered with anything other than male validation and caring about what other people thought of me. Junior year rolled around; a couple months later, I got a 940 on my PSAT (slay), and a pandemic was hitting.
It took the whole world being put on house arrest to do some much-needed self-reflection. I put my problems on the top shelf and took a step back. I had already spent 2 and half years of the most transformative part of my life worrying about what others thought of me? If Covid taught anyone anything, it's that no one knows what the fuck is gonna happen. Why are we still living our lives for other people? I did a lot of thinking alone, as many others did, and I realized… I don't want to be like this anymore. It is so draining pretending to be someone else. Then I got on tik tok. I really did start it as a joke, and then it kinda just… came to be. I had followers, these strangers from literally everywhere, following me on the internet, for me. This was world-altering because when I went onto that app and posted a vlog about my painfully mundane day… people enjoyed it (very cool).
For a time, I was caught up in what exactly I was posting onto tik tok. Admittedly, I was actually embarrassed. I was overwhelmed by the thought of people from my school seeing my videos and thinking I was weird for having a tik tok. So I controlled it, and like I said, I loved that. I liked how I could manipulate the way people perceived me; granted, while I was simultaneously grasping confidence. Yet, even from the confines of my home, I was still living for other people's perception. As I got comfortable, I got closer with my audience, and these strangers became something more of friends rather than "fans" or "followers." I was offered this brand new perspective on life. People care about who you candidly are. You are not just an entity made to please whoever you're currently surrounded by. Now obviously, I'm not saying you have to start a tik tok account to rebuild confidence, but instead, I'm offering you this; stop giving a shit. Easier said than done, I know, but at some point, you have got to realize, what's the point in not being yourself? When I stopped exclusively dressing like a LuLuLemon model in Air Force 1's and started exploring my identity, I found a little bit of love. I liked becoming the person I was meant to be; I like looking in the mirror and seeing a person actively trying to be their best version and a version that isn't for anyone but me.
Nine out of ten times, you are your biggest hater. We pick ourselves apart more than anyone else, which is why it actually makes me twitch to think about all the years I spent caring so much when most people didn't care at all. I can almost guarantee that people on the outside do not see the "horrible" things you see. You can tell when someone is confident. It's visible, and I'm still working on it myself, full transparency; it's a lengthy process. I still take photos of myself and nearly break down over the way my face contorts, or my body looks. So, I ask myself if I'm getting upset over said photo because of what others may think? Or what I think? In either scenario, stop. No one is going to tear you apart the way you do (unless they’re an asshole), and there's no point in tearing yourself apart because it's a photo, and photos lie. I could end world hunger AND send every person on Earth to Mars if I had a dollar for every edited, photoshopped, manipulated image I see on Instagram every day. Don't compare yourself to unrealistic standards. If you feel good, you probably look good, in which case, post the fucking picture. And for the love of sweet Jesus, stop looking at the photos you want to post for 45 minutes, trying to decide if it's worthy enough to be posted. Slap some warmth on that bitch, tweak the contrast, and hit the post button.
As much as I benefit from social media, I despise the way it has warped our perception of reality, which is why I stopped making it a place of perfection, at least on my end. I used to hate when my friends would post those forbidden photos of me with a heinous angle, and then I started doing it myself. It kinda comes back to the control aspect but in an altered light. I am hot, and I am sure to let my Instagram know frequently, but I also let them know that I get mad pimples, and my eyes are swollen when I wake up. I don't always look the way I look in most photos, I do not always make exceptional decisions, and I certainly fuck up. Life is made up of trial and error, which is totally okay. And on the note of fuck ups, let’s stop shaming confidence, stop belittling people for trying to practice self love and maybe work on your confidence.
Play with your confidence, tug at your comfort zone; I think you may be pleasantly surprised with what you find. That’s the surface level bit of it all for now. We’re talking friendships next week.
XOXOXOXO
DANI
