Girl Crushes

by Holly Moore

in issue four
Scintillations
Purple Bikini
Saraswati
Change In Air
Sarah's Gift
Fairy Chimes
Real Dreams
Xena
Writer?
Younger Self
Fledgling Artiste
Goddess Poetry
No McD's In Cuba
AF Photographers
Goddess On Phone
Moody Girl
Met The Goddess
To My Mother
Life Changing Books
Girl Crushes
Universe Spoke
Visualize This!
Contributors

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future issues
Issue Five: Bravery
Issue Six: Friendship

previous issues
Issue One: Change
Issue Two: Balance
Issue Three: Spring

At the gawky, pre-pubescent age of 11, I was just beginning to learn the rules of the world.  I knew boys had cooties, I knew about Santa and the Easter Bunny, and I knew Stephanie Hammond, my babysitter, was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen.  She was 17 and sassy, with long curly blonde hair, wore clothes like those worn in the latest rock videos with more holes, and sported bigger earrings than my mom ever dared.  She was my teen idol and I'd soak up her every word as she chatted excitedly on the phone to her girlfriends.  I wasn't too worried about a profession that early in life, but I knew that when I grew up I wanted to be just like her. 

Idolization, envy, jealousy, admiration, call it what you will, I call it a "girl crush."  A girlfriend coined the term a year or so ago.  We were out one night when she spotted your typical male fantasy - petite, blonde, large breasts, crystal clear blue eyes, and a stunning smile.  She exclaimed, "Oh, I have a girl crush!" and we each took turns eyeing the beauty from manicured toenail to perfectly combed highlight.  The term sounded silly at first, but I've begun to realize how insightful my friend's term was every time I catch myself meticulously scrutinizing a beautiful woman.  The problem with my girl crushes is that they leave me feeling inferior to someone else - giving up the race, because I failed to even enter myself in the competition.

I would like to think that I've come a long way from the days of playing dress-up and imitating my babysitter, but there is a part of me that still feels like a gawky 11 year old when a beautiful woman walks into the room.  I tried for a long time to be someone I wasn't by attempting to take on others' character traits that I saw as cute or charming or constructive.  I look back at pictures of myself trying to dress the way the girls I wanted to hang out with dressed and I look ridiculous.  I hear myself trying to borrow someone else's cute jargon and I'm embarrassed for myself.  Others seem to sense my insecurity when I don't feel comfortable in my own skin.  When I mask or suppress my true self to be who I perceive others need me to be, I am sending a message to myself that only parts of me are good enough to show the world.  One of the biggest lessons I'm learning in life is not to worry about what other people think.  The friends I try so hard to impress end up being the ones who don't genuinely care either way.  The friends who truly care accept me flaws and all. 

As I work on ridding myself of all the negativity that has accumulated over the years, I am reminded of a sculptor at work.  He chisels away at the excess stone in order to reveal the beauty known only to his mind's eye.  I have a hard time visualizing the masterpiece buried within me and I often mistake excess stone for part of that masterpiece.  The excess stone covering my fragile soul is much like the sculptor's stone - cold, hard and inhibiting.  Lies, illusions, and unsurrendered pain are compressed together over time into the stone weighing down my soul much like rock is formed in the earth.  As I grow weary and discouraged from chiseling away at this hard surface, I have to remind myself that I am worth the hard work, time and effort.  I no longer shun the doubt and frustration I experience, but I don't let them overcome me either.  I trust that I am perfectly and wonderfully made and I practice focusing on positive thoughts and learning to truly love and value myself.

I believe that every woman has trouble truly seeing her beauty.  My girlfriend who coined the "girl crush" term is one of my most beautiful friends.  With a face like Cameron Diaz, blonde stylish hair, and a height of 6 feet in heels, this girl is surely the object of many girl crushes.  She photographs well, she dresses up well, and worst of all, she looks great when she wakes up in the morning.  It is ironic that she spends her time eyeing other women's beauty but is unable to see her own.

I believe that there is great beauty inside me that I have yet to discover.  I am making a commitment to myself to believe in the beautiful person inside me and to find her.  When I stop fighting the battle within myself for just a moment, I am surprised at how much beauty I find inside me. 

As I was running errands the other morning, I saw a beautiful woman and felt the pangs of a girl crush.  This time, however, I wondered what her insecurities were, what her fears were, what her idea of beauty is.  Our eyes met and I saw a pair of beautiful brown eyes that would have normally made me envious, were it not for the sad look I noticed in them.  As I walked back to my car, I said a little prayer - for myself to find the beauty inside that I so desperately search for, for the beautiful woman and her struggles and insecurities, and for the gawky 11 year old in me who just wants to grow up to be someone special.