Is Selfie-Confidence the New Self-Confidence?

A guy once did a good creep over of all my social media accounts and asked/told me: "You're a good-looking girl, but there's no selfies so you must lack self-confidence?" We never talked again because what the hell.

But then it happened again. A new friend request, then a few days later, "It's weird that you don't post pictures of yourself anywhere. Why is that?"

That was less bizarre to me, so I engaged further in the dialogue, only to be met eventually with the question as to why I wouldn't put up more selfies of myself UNLESS I didn't have confidence in my physical looks.

This time, though, it did make me really wonder about it. Why am I getting slammed for not posting pictures of myself? Doesn't it mean something that I value myself enough, and have enough confidence on my own, without needed the "likes" and approvals of my social media peers? Is "omg hawt" from my friend that feels morally obligated to comment on a selfie really supposed to make my heart flutter with self-confidence?

Why is it now assumed that because I don't take daily pictures of myself and subject my followers to scroll through them imply that I am a heifer? I mean, I am self- aware enough to know I am no model, but I am also confident enough to know that my looks don't make people want to burn their eyes out. Or at least, no one has yet to burn their eyes out after seeing me, that I know of.

If this is a sign of the times, I want out.

I want back to the days where a guy will compliment you in person, and not just throw you a "like" on one of your super-filtered is that even you anymore selfies and call it a day. Let's #throwbackthursday to a time before #wcw'ing someone was a way of telling them you liked them. Oh. My. Gosh. Maybe we can even talk about our feelings face to face and not via text messages rife with ambiguous emojis.

Nah, I'm probably asking too much.

Changing your body may not change you life.

Disclaimer: I totally stand behind living a healthy lifestyle, which includes eating right (ish) and working out (ish). That being said, I think it's discouraging to see this plastered on Gold's Gym wall every time I work out:

Change your body. Change your life.

Now why is this seemingly positive message rubbing me wrong? Well, it's chafing me all over the place because it's wrong, and when it is right, it's still wrong.

Here's why it's outrightly wrong:

It is shallow beyond belief to think that if you simply lose a bit of weight or bulk up or whatever your workout goal is, that your problems will disappear. If you are truly overweight, then yes, working out will drastically change your life (and maybe even save it!), but for the majority of people looking to just lose a few pounds, it's not going to dramatically help you be any less of an asshole (or insert any word in there that applies to you).

Here's why I say this:

I am heavier than ever. I'd tell you how much I weigh, but that's not the type of embarrassment I'm okay with publishing. However, I can tell you that this is the most out of shape I have ever been in my life. But this is also the happiest I have ever been without a doubt.

Every time I decide to diet and exercise seriously, I turn into a wretched bitch. I'm no fun to hang out with because "I need to go to the gym," or "No, I'll just stay home and eat my lettuce wraps and then lay in bed hungry and miserable until I finally fall asleep."

Then I'm a few pounds lighter and a hell of a lot less happy. So, yes, my body may have changed and my life might of changed, but is that really worth it?

I'd go with no.

But I also want to explicitly say that when I do this workout thing gradually, like limiting my food intake and still working out at least a few times a week, I am happy. I still feel good and healthy, but I'm not neurotic about it. You know where that gets me? Exactly to where I am and have been for awhile now: at a consistent weight that is more than it used to be. But you know what I notice most? The happiness I see everyday in the mirror.

One Size Fits All, Except Me

During my lunch break today, I went over to Party City to get a flapper costume. There were two different options, which was ideal, as my roommate needed one too, so I bought both of them. One was red and marked "one size fits all" and the other was black and marked "large." I neglected the gym to run them home to show my roommate before she headed out for work. We decided that we would each try them on and then pick whichever seemed to fit each person more appropriately. Since she is working, I was the guinea pig for trying them on. I put on the black "large" one first. It fit really well and was long enough that I didn't feel like a total slut. Then I put the red one on.

Let me take a pause here to elaborate on my body type. Full disclosure:

I'm five-six and a size eight.

I'm not a stick, nor would I even say I'm skinny, but I wouldn't say I'm fat either. Yeah, you can tell I eat candy on the reg and, as I already admitted in this post, I am pretty good at making excuses to not go to the gym. But I am by no means a beluga whale.

Now back to the dress. Me and my still-carrying-some-baby-fat-at-22 body got pretty excited to try on the red dress after the general success of the black one. I throw it over my head, and notice it's getting stuck a bit more. I pull it all the way on, and have the pleasure of getting to tug at it to make it sit right. It's shorter and tighter than the same dress in black labeled "large."

Well, shit. How good does that make me feel that a dress proclaiming that it fits ALL is nice and snug on me? On one hand, I'm like "whatevs I guess that costume company is just like Abercrombie and are assholes that exclude fat people," but then on the other hand I'm like, "I'm not actually fat, so why are they marketing this as fitting everyone, when clearly it's not going to?" And then if I had a third hand (so I guess maybe my foot), I'm like, "well, maybe I could hit the gym a bit more, and maybe I do need to lose a bit of chub."

While I try not to let weight-issues bother me, I did used to be a baby meatball and have always had body conscious issues. Little reminders like this always sort of suck. While I'm going to still wear the dress, and going to rock the shit out of it, there'll always be a bit of extra smug snugness there to remind me that everyone apparently is skinnier than me.