Now before you go and say “but you are pretty!” I’ll stop you. I know I’m pretty. If I didn’t this article would be called "I’m Okay Not Being Pretty.”

For girls today, there’s a double standard. Wear makeup, you’re fake. Don’t wear makeup, you’re a slob. If you say you’re pretty, you’re over confident and have an ego: say you’re not pretty, you’re insecure. There’s no winning.

It’s taken me years and years of hating my body, hating the way I looked and realizing that other women look the way they look because that’s how they were made. They didn’t choose to be prettier than me, that’s just the way it worked out, and I can’t compare myself to their physical appearances because that’s not fair to me or them. Everyone is different.

I haven’t always considered myself pretty. I decided in my early years I didn’t care what people thought of me. I wore whatever I wanted, minimal makeup (still do) and dyed my hair a range of colors. I was not conventionally pretty. I wore galaxy printed leggings and a headband that had cat ears on it for crying out loud. (I will defend the headband though—Taylor Swift, my idol, wore it in her “22” music video and I bought the exact same one. No shame.)

Over the years my style has become more mature, I settled on a flattering hair color and put more effort into my appearance. I grew into my body and puberty hit me like a freight train. (I still thank God everyday *insert praying hands emoji*)

My dad has always told me I’m beautiful. So has my mom, my grandma, my aunts, etc.

But here’s the thing. They notice things about me that have nothing to do with my appearance that make me pretty.

Those people who told me I was pretty growing up noticed my generous and caring attitude; they noticed my ability to be witty and clever in conversation; they noticed my intelligence; they noticed my passion and driven manner; they noticed the way I treated people and animals; they noticed the inside of me, the parts that made me, me.

I know there are a million other women out there who look better than me and are prettier than me, which is why I make sure to have more to offer than just my physical appearance.

Yes, it’s cheesy, I know. But I’m all for cheesy. I’m pretty inside, and that’s where it counts.

So yes, I’m okay that other girls are prettier than me. I’m okay with the fact that boys will notice them more, or that they’ll stand out in a crowd. I’m okay with the fact that they’ll show up to class more put together than my “I woke up like this” self and I’m okay with my amount of pretty.

I know that looks will fade and someday I’ll be an old hag and even my 20 cats will hiss at the sight of me.

But I’m funny, witty, smart, kind, passionate, understanding, goofy, loving, etc. I’m pretty where it counts.

And I’m okay that I’m not the prettiest on the outside.