Putting Down the Pom-Poms

Okay, I used to be a cheerleader. Probably not surprising to most, but still a proclamation I rarely share. The word "cheerleader" creates an image of all of the things that I once was: pretty, skinny, popular, bubbly, eager to be every one's best friend, but with all of my priorities out of place. When we were in middle school through our high school days, all of us either was, wanted to be, or despised the cheerleader-type. In my case, I was the cheerleader. In all reality though, I was really everything but. I was merely a girl that wanted to fit in and to be loved. In my world, this meant you had to be pretty, rail thin, and perfectly coiffed at all times. I spent most of my life as an adolescent obsessed with what I thought was important. Someone once told me, "It is hard to be a pretty girl." I have only recently deciphered the meaning of this statement, and it has nothing to do with our outward appearance.

I am such a distant memory of that girl that the description of her would not even begin to describe me now. These days, you are more likely to find me less than perfectly coiffed: hair in a ponytail, no make-up, wrinkled t-shirt, jeans, and flip-flops. I have gone through such a drastic transformation from that cheerleader to who I am now, and this shift in self has nothing to do with how much I weigh or the color of my hair. The changes that I have experienced are the result of life-altering experiences: finding true love, the birth of my children, forging new friendships, moving to new places. I have become the woman that, as a cheerleader, I had no idea I wanted to be. I am far from perfect, but I have been able to create my sense of self by drawing on my imperfections. I only hope that I have become a woman that my husband, my children, and my friends can be proud of for everything that I am and everything that I am not. My journey began with my escape from the confines of high school and continues to be a work in progress. I no longer live my life as the cheerleader, although my first uniform still lies in a box in the attic. This is the only thing left of the girl I used to think I wanted to be.