I Am Jealous of Other Girls

Julianna Concepcion | Staff Writer

I am jealous of other girls. But not in the way you might think—I am proud to be me in certain ways, but I wish I could wake up at five in the morning and go on five-mile runs, or sit down with a group of gals pretty as me and watch cutesy shows on repeat with Ben and Jerry’s ice cream that won’t change the number on my scale.  

I wish I had the money to get highlights in my hair every four weeks and touch up my roots or go on hauls where I get name brand makeup products so I can Facetime that huge group of friends and yell, “Look what I’ve got!” 

I wish I didn’t have to worry so much about fitting in with the people around me, that I might be too ‘weird”, too “loud”, and too “disruptive.” 

I wish I didn’t have to fake my confidence, but I could instead just be that confident so naturally. 

I wish I had my own car, which sounds weird to some, but to me it’s been a goal for so long that I don’t think I could ever get one on my own.

I sometimes imagine what it would be like to be able to afford an apartment with my big group of friends. 

I even wonder sometimes what it would be like to turn heads like other girls turn mine, so people can exclaim, “She looks like a model in size-two Lululemon!” 

But that isn’t realistic at all, then I remember how ridiculous it is to want to be someone else. I remember that me is much better for my own sake. 

Maybe I don’t have the funds to go on trips to Cabo each Spring and Summer break, but I get to see my sister and nieces in Texas every winter. 

Maybe I don’t turn heads as much as I wish, but I’ve got a boyfriend that loves me enough to stick around all these years, cheering me on like I’m an athlete and he’s my biggest fan. 

Maybe I feel I weigh too much at times but isn’t it such a privilege to be able to eat what I want and not have to worry about where my next meal will come from. 

I don’t have a group of ten friends, but I’ve got one really good one, and I’m blessed to have that. 

I can’t afford a huge apartment with my rag-tag group of friends, but goodness me, it is a privilege to have such a wonderful relationship with my mom while I still live with her at age 21. 

I idealize these “other girls”, but I know they have their own struggles too, that they might wish sometimes to be someone else. And even that’s okay. They’re all normal feelings to have. 

I am jealous of other girls, and it makes sense, because other girls are wonderful.