A Waste Of Time
When I was a teen I was crippled by body image anxiety. I fretted over how my hair looked. How my nails looked. What I wore. How fat I was.
When I look back, I realise how much energy and time I wasted on these pointless things. They didn’t get me anywhere. Nobody liked me more. I didn’t fit in any better.
But you can see every generation of teens going through the same thing. It’s why we have fast fashion – a desperate desire to find the image that works, that helps us look like everyone else (that’s what it’s all about right?). That desire for self identity that doesn’t set us apart enough to make us the target of bullies.
I wouldn’t give all the money in the world to be a teen again. I’d love to be thirty again. That’s when I started to suss it out. That’s how long it took. I think generally that is how long it takes. Your twenties are a minefield. Mine weren’t too bad. Compared to my school days it was a breeze.
But I wouldn’t want to be in my twenties now. University, internships, pressure to be an instant internet success. To be all those things on advertising billboards you can never be because it doesn’t really exist. The world is far more fake now. And the more fake it gets, the more we want it. We are doomed.