Back, thighs, stomach, knees — stop. I need to stop listing them because soon people will look and take notice of my…

Flaws.

Actually, no. Let's take a moment. I already know that I can't change much of my appearance. Just as I was born with this body, I will die with it. I know that society's beauty standards are disproportionate, and quite frankly, unrealistic.

So why am I stressing? What am I searching for?

Oh, yeah, that's right. All I want is for someone to think that I'm pretty.

But, of course, that thought will never run through anyone's mind. I don't have the skinny body shown in all the magazines, nor do my curves fall in all the right places. My back is sprinkled with acne scars. My stomach isn't tan enough, nor flat enough, to ever look attractive and sexy in a bikini. My knees look weird. Not that I ever really cared for a thigh gap, but I lack one anyway.

I've gained weight since I stopped playing sports on a consistent basis. I don't fit into the same jeans going into my sophomore year of college as I did my sophomore year of high school. I hardly ever wear makeup, causing me to look more like I'm 17 than 20. I have never, nor will I ever, have a perfect and desirable body.

I had a friend a few years ago that I went shopping with. She looked at a dress that I bought that day, saw the XL hanger and, looking at me funny, asked, "Did you buy that size?"

Feeling ashamed, I lied and said that I hadn't. I did buy that XL dress though. The large fit me, but I wanted to wear something slightly looser, hence the size up. But what does that matter? Why is it that anyone, even a friend, would have to look at me differently because of the clothes I buy? Why does a size have to correlate to a person's worth? I still love that dress, but I rarely wear it. Whenever I pull it out, I think of that individual and sadly put it back — because I know that wearing that size somehow makes me less beautiful.

I know I shouldn't hate myself for it, but I do.

I was on Instagram the other day, and I kept seeing all of these body positive and self-esteem boosting posts — you know, the ones meant to be inspiring and to create that "feel good" moment. I wonder how many of those advocates posting really feel 100 percent good about their own bodies. I know it's easy for them to say they will accept their body as it is, but it's quite another thing to actually feel that way in the soul.

Personally, I know it's insanely difficult. I've spent years trying to work toward acceptance, and I have only taken baby steps.

Of course, one day I want to be able to accept my flaws, to look at them and not even see a flaw, but rather a part of my body. I want to be able to shop for clothes without concern for how a particular shirt or dress might make my stomach look. One day, I wish to be able to step on the scale or look at myself in the mirror and, for once, actually like what stares back at me.

I want to. But it's just so hard.