Self-Love

She likes me.

Lexi Harlow liked me, and yet I still couldn”t manage to like myself. She thought I was a good person, yet I failed to see what she saw. But who”s to say she even meant what she said? She could have just been trying to be polite in order to spare my feelings.

“Do you want to continue with questions?” I asked, not knowing how to continue a conversation filled with such positivity. I was never good at receiving compliments, especially when I never believed them myself.

“Well, I actually have a meeting I should be getting to.” Lexi flipped over her arm and looked at the invisible watch on her wrist.

“Pfft, oh yeah, right,” I played along. “You should get going then.”

“No, it’s fine. I’d rather stay here and talk to you anyway.”

“Yeah, it’s totally not because you can’t leave the room.”

“No, that’s definitely not it.” She winked before continuing, “What is my second studio album?”

“Lame. I gave you the idea for this question. Your second album is called Resilient.”

Lexi hummed in approval. Licking her lips, she furrowed her eyebrows and looked down as though she were debating something. She then admitted, “Believe it or not, when I wrote that album, I actually didn’t like myself much as a person either. It kind of proved to be therapeutic, though, because it helped a lot with my confidence.”

Personally, I”d always thought Lexi was beautiful. She sat next to me with her hair falling slightly below her shoulders, wearing a black loose-fitting T-shirt with holes strategically poked on the shoulders and along the rib cage. Silver chains stitched the torn fabric together. Her slightly faded leggings were paired with black platform boots that laced up on the sides. She was wearing the simplest outfit, but somehow she managed to make it look stunning. Lexi had always been known for her bright blue eyes, which contrasted perfectly with her dark hair. Her skin was naturally pale, which was a shocker, seeing as how most of the celebrities in Hollywood seemed to lean more toward borderline blackface. Lexi never sought out color by getting spray tans or using makeup that was a shade too dark. She was the kind of person who always seemed to embrace her normal complexion. Throughout my lifetime, skin color was something that I had been hyper-aware of, and for reasons I didn’t understand, society had branded being artificially tan as the ideal standard. As for natural melanin, though, that had always been seen as an inferiority complex. While sitting across from Lexi, I couldn”t help but compare our two different shades and wondered if she also saw me as inferior because of my darker complexion. Skin color was something I often thought about whenever I saw someone lighter than myself and I knew the struggle of being treated differently. I couldn’t sit here and say that my life was filled with a shit ton of racism and inequality because being mixed-race came with its own set of privileges, but regardless, I was never treated equally. I always admired that Lexi didn’t try to adhere to societal expectations, but I guess that didn’t mean she was free from any of the pressure. This just goes to show that the idea of “perfect” wasn”t a one-size-fits-all solution. You could believe with all your heart that someone was the most attractive person in the world, yet that same person wouldn’t see themselves in the same light.

“How can someone as beautiful as you lack confidence?”

“You”re one to talk. You’re fucking gorgeous.”

I shook my head, refusing to acknowledge the words she said.

My physical appearance had always been a topic of disdain. Later on in life, a lot of my depression was rooted in body dysmorphia, with a dash of hopelessness and abandonment issues thrown in. In high school, of course, I had my fair share of insecurities, but the way my confidence would drop when I graduated was something I could never have imagined. I was always known for being the skinny girl, which was never a bad thing, but I always thought I needed to be curvier. Just as I was getting comfortable in my own skin, everything changed. I gained forty pounds out of nowhere, as though my body had decided to go through puberty for a second time. I finally got my wish and became curvier, but along with it came the loss of my flat stomach and, in turn, a decrease in confidence. I didn’t have the luxury of being able to skip leg day or being able to eat at McDonald”s four times a week. And yeah, it’s probably for the best that I stayed active and maintained a healthy diet, but it would’ve been nice to make that decision on my own without that choice being detrimental to the image of my self-worth. No matter how hard I tried, whenever I would look in the mirror, I constantly found that I didn”t like the person I saw staring back at me.

“If you can’t see how attractive you are, then you may want to consider getting your eyes checked.”

“Coming from you, that’s rich.”

“To be fair, I don’t think many people are really used to being called pretty,” Lexi reflected.

“Yeah, me.” I let out a sad laugh. “I have the confidence of someone trying to leap off a building with a plastic bag for a parachute.”

“Yeah, but sometimes being too confident isn’t a good thing either.” I tilted my head to the side at her words. “Confidence can be empowering, but it can also be so damaging.”

“Cockiness?”

“More like narcissism,” she nodded. “And the thing is, most of it is rooted in the words that we hear from others.”

“It”s kind of scary how much words affect the way we see ourselves,” I agreed. Being a celebrity, she would receive more scrutiny about her appearance than the average person.

“There are so many expectations to meet. How am I expected to have a flat stomach, small waist, fat ass, big boobs, long legs, thick thighs, and be as tall as a model, all while not being self-absorbed?” Lexi exasperated while throwing her hands up.

She was right. As women, there was so much that was expected of us.

You had to be thin but not skinny. You had to look curvy but not have stretch marks. You had to be seen but not heard. You had to work out but not to the point of becoming too strong. You had to deal with pain but never talk about it. You had to work the same job but get paid less. You had to be pretty but never get plastic surgery. You had to put out but not too much to be deemed a whore. You had to live in a world that wasn”t built with you at the forefront but still somehow manage to thrive.

How was I supposed to thrive when I could barely survive?

“It”s impossible,” I shook my head.

“I know that. We all know that. But sometimes that mindset still gets the better of us,” Lexi confessed. “Honestly, my problem has never been about having confidence. It’s about lacking it.” Her eyes seemed to drift somewhere far away, even though she was staring at the wall directly in front of her. Lexi’s lips remained slightly parted as she rested her arms on her knees that had been propped up and pulled loosely against her chest. “I can only be me, which is never enough for anyone.”

“It’s enough for me,” I offered a smile. “It’s enough for your fans.”

“My fans deserve better than a reckless, mentally unstable, broken shell of a human,” she said, crossing her arms.

“Lexi—”

“I know that you don’t like yourself, but what if I told you that I don’t like myself either? People think if you’re a celebrity, then your life is filled with happiness, but I can only ever remember the pain. The crazy thing is, most of my pain was self-inflicted,” she frowned. “I’m not this perfect person that you or anyone else should look up to.”

“You’re not perfect,” I stated. “But that in itself is one of the reasons why I look up to you. I can count on one hand the number of celebrities that promote body positivity and mental growth, all while not fitting every single category you just listed. You are one of them,” I smiled at her. “You’re my role model because you don”t shy away from topics that scare everyone else. Anxiety and depression? You”ve talked about it. Body dysmorphia? You”ve talked about it. Relationships and sexuality? You”ve talked about it. Addiction? You”ve talked about it,” I listed one after the other. “It’s not a straight path. Everyone has bad days.” The corners of my lips curled upward to resemble a sad smile. “But you even talk about those too.”

Everyone knew about Lexi”s struggle with her mental health. People would tear her down and call her crazy. Even the struggle with her body image was publicized, as people claimed she had gained too much weight and looked prettier when she was younger. After her suicide attempt, Lexi’s record label ended up dropping her, claiming she was “too much of a wild card.”

“My choices are mine and mine alone, but they have cost me so much. I have to, time and time again, prove that I’m not a risk to record labels, managers, and even my own family. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to be the person my fans deserve,” she shook her head. “The person I want to be.”

Lexi was being vulnerable to me—a complete and total stranger. I couldn’t understand why she had decided to put her trust in me, but the drive to know more stopped me from asking why. I wanted to help her without hurting her. It almost felt like I was walking on a thin rope, teetering on the line between life and death. What if the words I said next caused her to spiral into depression or trigger past suicidal tendencies?

How do I help her without making things worse?

I was so used to people tip-toeing around me, skating around certain words or phrases to avoid upsetting me, but maybe that wasn’t what Lexi needed.

“I think it”s pretty clear that you are flawed, but that”s what makes you so amazing. We spend so much time focusing on what others think of us that we lose ourselves trying to play pretend. If you are comfortable in your own skin, fuck what anyone else thinks. You”re the one who taught me that. Maybe you just needed a reminder of some of the things you”ve been teaching everyone else. Maybe you just needed a reminder of the reason why your fans support you.” Sometimes, people just needed to hear that they were loved and appreciated every once in a while. After all, if you stopped hearing those words of affirmation, all that remained were the words that caused you harm. “You are not God, you are not flawless, and you are not perfect, but God damn, you”re one perfectly flawed person.” The corners of my lips rose tenderly as I added, “Not to mention your voice is insane, and you have a killer body.” Blushing, I stopped talking, figuring it would be best not to make a complete fool of myself and ramble on about how I had been in love with her since I was a child.

A single tear streamed down her cheek, but as quickly as it had appeared, she had already wiped it away.

“Well, fuck. You didn”t have to get all mushy.” I cracked a smile. “And you said you were a bad friend?” She laughed shakily.

“I hope I didn’t overstep at all. I just want you to see yourself the same way your fans see you.”

“Not insane?”

“Well…” I dragged out slowly while avoiding eye contact.

“Hey!” She hit my foot with her own.

“Don’t worry! Still not as insane as Jeffrey Dahmer.”

“Oh, shut up,” she rolled her eyes.

“Kidding!” I laughed. “I was just kidding!”

A small smile made its way across her face. Glancing at me through hooded eyes, she spoke, “You’re a good person, Autumn.”

“Yeah, maybe I am,” I sighed while playing with my fingernails. “And you’re a good person, too.”

“Maybe I am,” she shrugged. Clapping her hands, she spoke again, “Okay, next question.”