"Am I Pretty?"

I asked into the silence of my room as I stared at myself in my full-length mirror. I was seen as one of the guys, not as the girl I was. Since I could run as fast as them, take pain like them, and didn't squeal at the sight of mud.

The girls took me for one of them too. Pretending to be my friend, just to get closer to my guy friends. And before I knew it, they dropped me like a used tissue, happy with their 7-minutes in heaven, while leaving me with nothing but emptiness.

"Am I Pretty?"

I ask into the silence of my room, as I stare at the tears that run down my face in the mirror. As his mocking laugh and words replay over and over again in my head, making me wonder how I ever liked him in the first place.

"Who would ever want to date you?"

My first crush, the first boy I was smitten over, and that's how he treated me the moment he found out. His words burned like acid into my mind and heart, his mocking laugh following me as I ran away from the scene of my mini heart break.

I repeat that same question over and over again as I stare at myself with disgust – angry at the sight of my appearance. At the age of thirteen, my thin stick-like form showed no signs of puberty having hit yet, while I was dressed in a track-suit pants and t-shirt with my hair tied up. No wonder they saw me as one of the guys, as nothing but a joke.

______

"Am I Pretty?"

I asked into the silence of my room once more, as my mind wondered back to school and to how I had watched one guy jump from girl to girl within my group of friends. Wondering why he never seemed to approach me in a similar way.

My so-called girl friends later coming to ambush me, to tell me they couldn't be my friend anymore because I was too quiet. Too timid for their taste.

"Am I Pretty?"

I ask into the silence of my room as I stare at myself in the mirror. Puberty had finally struck and I was now aimed with somewhat of an ample bosom which I kept hidden under baggy clothes. I glared at my body with self-loathing, for now that I had the goods, I had become too quiet to merit any notice.

______

"Am I Pretty?"

I asked into the silence of my room as I once again find myself staring into my full-length mirror. As I remember how I watched my friend get guy after guy. In a matter of months, she captured hearts, leaving me wondering how she got so lucky to have anyone look at her in such a way that wasn't friendship.

Clenching my teeth at the thought of seeing couples' parade around the court yard. Kissing and flirting for all their life was worth, with no shame whatsoever. Wondering what was missing from me, that no-one dared to look at me in such a way.

"Am I Pretty"

I ask once more as I find myself at the age of sixteen once again in the same position I had been in once before. Where I was seen as nothing more than one of the guys. I was once again the Poster Girl for all thing's tom-boy, hiding behind my baggy jersey and long pants. My mind filled with things of interest, and not the newest tutorial on make-up or what kind of fashion was in at the moment.

I was the girl with knowledge of all things guy-like instead of girl-like. Shaking my head with distaste as I glared at myself, for I had the body to attract the guy but not the brains.

______

"Am I Pretty?"

I ask into the silent night as I once again find myself in a similar position as I had found myself once before. I had feelings for a guy, and what is different is that this time he actually likes me back. But in the back of my mind, I'm wondering if this isn't some sick joke, between him and his friends.

I ask this of myself as all those years of questioning comes back to haunt me, replaying his words and laugh over in my head. Coming to realise that, I was definitely not someone any guy would be interested in.

"Am I Pretty?"

I ask myself as I stare at my reflection in the mirror. Replaying how he asked me to be his girlfriend, and how he asked me to the school dance. Slightly overwhelmed at the fact that he cared to even look my way twice, going so far as to ask me out.

However, I paused for a moment as I thought of my new reputation. One that I've finally made for myself, as I finally decided to step out of my shell. Breaking through their clouded minds, as I was no-more seen as one of the guys or the quiet girl. No, I was seen as someone with a voice and also a very strong fist.

This major change, begging me to ask that question again.

______

"Am I Pretty?"

I ask into the midday sun that beats down on my skin. Wondering back to my college class, where I sat opposite a hot guy, hoping that he would notice me. We talked and joked with some banter and flirting in there too, but nothing said was really serious.

I sat there and wondered back to how my friend showed the class a picture of me at my school dance. Clad in a backless dress with a thigh high slit, my face covered with make-up. Watching the boys fawn over it, before finally turning to me and saying, "If that's how you dress, we will definitely date you!"

"Am I Pretty?"

I ask as dusk falls over me and I sit there feeling numb. Numb at the thought that people would be so shallow as to misinterpret what was clearly in front of them. Numb to the fact that I was only seen as pretty when I had poked and prodded certain things into place. Numb at the fact that all anyone ever saw was the material.

... ... ...

I asked myself this question again and again, as I finally walked to stand in the mirror once more. Clad in my tom-boy attire that was comfortable and like a second skin to me. Dressed in my faded skinny jeans, a black graphic t-shirt, my slightly big hoodie and my scuffed-up sneakers.

I stared at myself and thought back, because who looked back at me wasn't that 13-year-old girl who was stick thin, nor was it that 14-year-old girl with newly found curves. And it definitely wasn't that 16-year-old girl who was pining for somebody to notice her, nor was it that 18-year-old who questioned the boy she was with and the reputation she made.

I was a college girl who had finally grasped the truth, who had finally grasped my truth.

"I am Beautiful,"

I said into the mirror as I met my own gaze in the mirror. Because I am who I am. I am the tom-boy who is one of the guys. I am the girl who can be quiet yet deadly with her fists. I am the girl who knows that she is loved for who she is by the guy standing beside her. As he had called her beautiful from the day, he laid eyes on her, yet she didn't dare to believe him.

I am Beautiful because through all that doubt, through that shit storm of hatefulness and self-loathing, that I felt towards myself. I didn't change for any one of them.

I am Beautiful because I am me.

So, if you're reading this and you're questioning if you're pretty or beautiful or unique in any way. Go grab that mirror and say it, no. Scream it, and say that you are beautiful no matter what, because it's not for them to decide. It's how you deserve to feel.