It was a Tuesday night and while out on a walk I took a glance at my Instagram. I stopped at a photo I had taken over the weekend. It was a picture of me in a white dress, holding a glass of champagne. It had received a decent amount of likes but for some reason it bothered me. I called an old friend and asked her why I hated this photo. Her response? “Because D, it doesn’t show who you are.”
It all started in 4th grade. I was the only 12-year-old with boobs. Hormones were not kind to me. In sixth grade I was bullied to a point that I would eat my lunch in the bathroom. As a teenager I would cry in my car, not show up to class, so ashamed about who I was. In college, the first person I fell in love with had someone else on the side. I then dated someone who told me I’d be perfect if I had blue eyes. Then there was the unforgettable incident of me walking in on a guy with someone else in the shower.
Now, I’m going to up front. All these instances don’t make them look bad, they make me look absolutely pathetic. Who stays with someone who tells her how awful of a human being she is for four years? Not that girl I have pictured sipping champagne on the balcony. What I’ve come to realize is, she’s just armor for that 16-year-old girl who was called “fatty” while trying to get to class.
Vulnerability constantly scares me; partially because I believe some may interpret it as a sign of weakness. However, what I’ve come to learn is honesty is the bravest quality anyone can show these days.
I’ve asked myself quite often why I am in this town where Instagram models aren’t a myth, they are the girl next to you at the gym. Los Angeles hasn’t enhanced my insecurities; this city has made me face them.
Throughout my career, I’ve learned to stand up when it came to my salary, saying no to a boss and even walking away from situations in my career I knew were toxic. However, I still haven’t managed to escape the toxic relationship that somehow started in grade school when I was shamed for eating a bagel and cream cheese.
I don’t recall what filter I used for that photo but truth me told, that girl isn’t me. She seems cool though. The true Davina can be found Facetiming with her dog while watching Frasier in her monkey pajamas. She has freckles, curly hair and is still coming to terms that she doesn’t have blue eyes. But hey, believe it or not if you’re lucky enough that they’re looking at you, you’re in for a real treat.
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