There is so much talk everywhere about toxic beauty standards and how we need to love our bodies the way they are and so on. But I've never heard of the problems still existing despite the radiant beauty or dizzying self-confidence. And yes, everyone has problems, but I don't mean rainy days, backlogs, or other ordinary human things.  

To create a bigger picture, no, I am not a walking beauty standard. Under no circumstances. I'm short and brown, and my eyes completely lack the sparkle of the ocean. The skin, let's say olive, comes with a pilosity, maybe not excessive, but which led me to start epilating around 14 years old. You could say I'm in shape, but not in the industry mold, and bad mouths could say it's just a lack of toning.  

Now I don't view any of these things as a flaw, but I've had periods when they've bothered me. I also heard 'you're not fat' or 'everyone is beautiful in their own way', but these are useless things. I knew the things I was being told were true, but they weren't helping me. And in vain I was told not to care about other people's opinions, because my opinions were tougher.  

We have passed this stage. I invested in myself, discovered my passions, capitalized on my talents, and realized that if I can ignore a burp from a stranger, then I can ignore a little cellulite on my thighs.  

But no matter how much self-confidence I gain over the years, it doesn't matter to some people. And I'm not talking about gossip here, but understatement.  

Childlike height and ruddy cheeks, paired with an introverted spirit, hardly give the impression of competence. On a large scale, it really didn't matter. I passed my exams, I went to college, all fine and dandy.  

However, in day-to-day interactions it was felt.  

A childhood friend, a year older than me, wrote to me the other day. Since we haven't spoken in a long time, I told him about the changes in my life and he told me that I'm doing well, I'll soon become a flight attendant. Becoming a flight attendant was my goal six years ago. Of course plans change and he knew I had long since given up on this childish idea. I had other goals and other inclinations, but instead of coming to terms with them, he gave me a short lecture about how I was giving up my dream and losing my childlike purity. He was convinced he knew me better than I did, just because he had met the 13-year-old who wanted to fly for free.  

Anyway, I don't want to make a tragedy out of such a harmless misunderstanding.  

As I mentioned before, I'm not exactly an outgoing spirit. Everyone sees this and I don't try to hide it. But, my personality is not limited to the fact that I don't like to hook up strangers at parties or dance naked in the sea at night. I like caution and safety and I'm selective with the people around me, but that doesn't negate my leadership qualities and desire to be involved. I've helped people all my life, I'm realistic and pragmatic, I don't take unnecessary risks. I can handle a project and know my limits. I didn't have opportunities like that in high school, but even if I had, no one would have supported me. I had teachers who didn't know that I ran for the presidency of the Student Council in the 11th grade. And I and my picture on the campaign poster looked at them with disgust when they congratulated my colleague who was running for the same position and had the poster next to mine. The girl deserves it 

congratulations, no neg. But I also had my merits. My attempt to engage clearly paled in the face of my heavier accommodation and the surrounding excitement.  

However, this inattention is not a tragedy either.  

A few months ago it was a friend's birthday. Sitting at the table and chatting, a person at the table was talking about her small bracelet business and wondering how she could ship the products to buyers. He was suggested by mail and asked how he should proceed. Looking her in the eye, I began to tell her, loud and clear, the information I had accumulated from my previous experiences with Romanian Post. After the first three words, someone interrupted me. I repeated the sentence, I was interrupted again. And there were people addressing the young lady with bracelets. I had a hard time processing it, but I realized that I hadn't been interrupted, I'd just been ignored. No one heard me speak except the person next to me. I correct, no one paid attention to me except the person next to me. Everyone had heard me, but no one thought I had anything relevant to say.  

However, this negligence is not a tragedy either.  

And those were just three situations. In reality, it was years. Years in which I was building my confidence, to save myself from myself, and building my credibility, to survive the world. And anyone can say that we don't need the approval of others, but every understatement is a blow. And blows are not tragedies. You won't call an ambulance because you bumped into the furniture while sweeping. And you won't go to a psychologist either just because someone forgot to let you know when they were going out with the gang.  

Small details are not tragedies, just as scratches are not trauma. Everyone feels sorry for you when you're self-conscious about your weight, when you don't have the confidence to try on a short dress, when you're afraid to stand out. And, indeed, rightly so. Discrimination and bullying are everywhere and we must learn to accept each other and ourselves.  

BUT, once you've overcome the typical problems, there's no one else fighting alongside you. However, being ashamed of your pain and inhibiting it is a tragedy.