I woke up one day and I decided this: I was going to be someone else.

Insane, I know. But, insane, I am.

Hold on, let’s just back up for a second. You probably need some context here, right?

Okay, here it goes.

When the semester started, quite frankly, I was a mess. I was exhausted, but I couldn’t sleep. My heart was racing, but I couldn’t get out of bed. I kept telling myself that the next day I’d be better. But, like a clingy one night stand, the next day, sad Breanna was still there.

Over winter break I got a disappointing haircut, glasses and, since I was eating like the Teletubbie vacuum, I gained a few extra pounds.

I felt horrible on the inside, and every time I looked in the mirror I felt worse. School was around the corner and all I could think is, I don’t want to see anyone. I convinced myself that the moment I walked into class people would think, “Oh man, what happened to her?”

So, I skipped four of my five classes. I was tempted to skip all of them, drop out of school and live the rest of my days watching Vine compilations inside my blanket fort.

Unfortunately, however, quoting six second videos isn’t a marketable skill.

Reluctantly, I did my makeup, I painted a smile on my face, and I went to my first class; 20 minutes late.

The following week, I spent my mornings perfecting my brows, curling my hair and tearing through my closet to find “slimming” outfits. And, you guessed it, I was late for every class.

I spent my nights lying awake, dreading school, thinking to myself “ I wish I wasn’t so self aware. I wish I wasn’t so self-conscious. I wish I didn’t care about how I looked.”

Yes, I care about how I look. What a first world problem. What a superficial issue. Cue the eyeroll and the tiny violin.

It’s crazy that women are expected to surf through every new wave, and although some of us are drowning in societal expectations, we’re not supposed to talk about it.

Women are taught that superficial things matter every moment of our lives, but if we complain about our appearance, we’re shallow. We’re expected to be thin but “thick.” We’re pushed to follow every trend to fit in, without appearing “basic”.

Women everywhere are trying so hard to look like, well, we aren’t trying so hard.

And to tell you the truth, that’s not how I want to live anymore.

I want to be carefree and confident. I want to live like Queen Ilana Glazer and be unapologetically me.

I don’t want to have to “put my face on” before I go outside. I don’t want to burn my forearms “taiming my hair”. Maybe I’m exhausted, or maybe I’m just growing up. Either way, I’m over playing this CPU. It’s time for me to create a character of my very own.

So, I’m hitting restart.

Goodbye eagle wings that once flew high above my eyes. So long highlighted cheekbones that gave me that perfect Edward Cullen glow. Oh contour, how I’ll miss-wait, no-I never actually figured that one out.

Finally, though it pains me to say this, farewell concealer. Thank you for being there for me during every PMS breakout. You really came in clutch that one time I had an allergic reaction to Equate makeup wipes. I fell victim to Walmart’s low prices, and you were there to cover me up.

To all the women out there, this isn’t a natural beauty movement. If you want to wear makeup, go ahead sis, slay to the gods. This also isn’t a self-love lecture. Let’s be real here, that’s a whole other journey.

I’m writing this to say, it’s okay to be insecure and it’s okay to talk about it. Be whoever you want. As for me, I’ve already decided I am going to be someone better.

I decided I was finally going to be myself.

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