Representation matters.

This is a post about how representation in media matters. But before we get the meaty-made-ya-think part, a back story that will seem like shameless self-promotion. (It's not but I'm writing on a blog so who are we really kidding?)

I was never one for the "wheelchair Halloween costumes". I want to think it's because I was cool enough to carry a clever costume sans ~sO InSPirIng~ gimmicks but if we're being honest, I just didn't want to draw any more attention to the 300 pounds of metal I'm sitting on, thank you very much.

This year though, Melissa McCarthy as Sean Spicer on the rolling podium was just too good to pass up. (And I'm working on the insecurity part).

I spent hours with the help of my cousin building a podium that attached to my chair. I got the perfect outfit. You'd think I was feeding the entire dessert crowd at a French bistro, I had so much mousse in my hair. On Halloween, my friends and I went out onto South Temple and got some action shots. We laughed and luckily we didn't get hit by a car.

This was the resulting video--editing props to Jeremy Walker.



I was so excited to watch it and post it and become internet famous and Melissa McCarthy was going to message me about how funny I was and maybe we'd become friends.

But 32 seconds later...all I could think was "Is...is that what I look like?"

And my criticism wasn't with my lack of makeup or ill fitting suit jacket. It was all about parts of my body that are with me every day.

Is that what I look like in motion? Are my hands really that bony? Are my arms really that gangly? Does my head really look like a bobble head when I go over a bump? Do I really have that much surface area on my right side?

All the fun and excitement and anticipation that led up to that moment were gone. Replaced instead by self-loathing and angst and doubt.

Now I've lived in this body for 25 years. I know what it looks like. But it's not very often I see this body from someone else's point of view. I see myself from my reflection, from my selfies, from the photos others take where I say "could you hold the camera up a little bit higher?"

It's like that awful moment you hear your voice in a recording (which was another cringe-y moment for me in that video). I was seeing my body the way everyone else was seeing it and I didn't like it.

After some tears and a sleep, I got over it.  I posted the video and got lots of laughs, just as I had hoped. But I really wasn't that over it. I still had that nagging insecurity and I really haven't watched it myself since.

It wasn't until yesterday, with that experience fresh in my mind, that I saw this Instagram post disabled model Jillian Mercado.

Wait, a second. That's kind of how my hand looks. And I'm not repulsed by her. Not in the slightest. She's gorgeous and unique. Why was I any different?

I have never really seen myself in media. Even in "we love every body" beauty campaigns, my body is conspicuously absent. I've long held strong opinions on representation in media but in this moment, at 25 years old, I realized truly how much never seeing my body portrayed not even as "beautiful"but just NORMAL has impacted my self image. I just need to see me.

And I have it easy! I am a blond haired, blue eyed, straight, middle class white girl with decent bone structure. I can afford makeup and hair products and clothes that flatter what I'm working with. I recognize that while my body is different, it still doesn't deviate far from what we have classified as the norm. I also recognize my worth is infinitely more than what I look like.

My friends who are disabled people of color, members of the LGBTQ+ community, who are struggling just to get BASIC needs met, let alone worrying about what they look like--if you can't see it, you can't be it.

I'm not sure why I wrote this. None of it is an original or groundbreaking thought. I really don't need people to tell me I'm pretty (really, please don't). But as I sat on it, I realized earlier this week, I needed to write it for some reason, maybe there is someone who needs to read it today.

To you I say, don't hide yourself because you don't see yourself. You'll go on a weird journey when it comes to loving your body. You'll go from self-loathing to gratitude in an instant.

Your arms might be gangly. Your hands may be bony. Your head might bobble like a bobble head. You're normal.