So many writers have blogged about image and the pressures to have the “perfect body” and how you should love yourself for who you are and how the world’s opinion doesn’t matter. All of this is true, but for some reason no matter how times we say it, we just don’t seem to get it.

As children we are usually raised under the impression that image doesn’t matter. Our parents always tell us not to judge others by the way they look, but how they act. “Don’t judge a book by its cover”, right?

We say that, but do we really mean it? You can tell a girl struggling with anorexia that she is perfect the way she is and then go to the bathroom, stare at yourself in the mirror and question your own perfection. We are all hypocritical and we all know it, but we don’t say it.

It has been brought to my attention that body image is a real problem. One thing that is clear is that it is a big problem here in Southern California.

Now, before I go on I want to make one thing clear. This post is not to insult anyone. It’s not a blog meant to belittle Southern Cali just because I’m from NorCal. This happens in Northern California too, but I do want you to know that there is an evident difference between the two regions.

I’ve lived in Northern California my entire life. Growing up I had always been afraid of any judgment from the outside public. Anyone who wasn’t accustomed to pink tutus and white cowboy boots as an everyday outfit could say whatever they wanted about me, but if it was offensive it sucked.

To be honest, the Disney channel scared me into thinking that the most important issue in school is looks and money. I blame Lizzie McGuire for that. Then as my group of friends started to grow I started to see reality outside of TV. And as we got older I realized that real, non-TV people don’t actually care too much about what you look like or how much money you have. What they care about is whether or not you are going to be a good friend to them and if they can trust you.

The fact that people can love you for who you are is an awesome thing. It is the most important lesson you can learn in life. When I got to high school I will admit I was a little skeptical. I was afraid of what people might think of me. But, once again my peers assured me that all I had to do was be Maddie.

From Freshman year all the way through my Sophomore year I was proud to be in a high school environment where the biggest social problem was where and when friends would get to hang out.

Like any other high school there were the occasional groups spread out across campus, but what impresses me and should impress you, is that those groups are all connected. “Mexicans” and “Hipsters”. “Punks” and “Gangsters”. “Skinny” people and “Fat” people. Everyone parties together, eats together, and spends time together and no one is judged. It was like the idea of superficial cliques only existed in Television dramas.

When I came to OVS, once more, I was nervous. What would it be like? What would they think of the girl in a purple plaid shirt and ripped jeans? What kind of people are they? Are they just a bunch of stuck up rich kids? I soon found out that stuck up was that furthest thing from these kids are. The people, I found, at OVS were in a word “normal”. Still, Southern California was and still is a completely different world to me and I was afraid of the attitude people would have here.

In Santa Rosa money is a very rare thing. Down here in SoCal money seems like no problem. The two places in my opinion are complete polar opposites. Up in Rosa the town is full of punks and girls get their clothes from Ross or their boyfriends closet every once in a while. Here, people are buying jewelry from Tiffany’s and guys have more shoes than their girlfriends.

And It’s occurred to me over the two years I’ve spent here in SoCal that I’ve seen something that I never really saw before. They actually care. They care about looks. They care about money. They care about size. It’s strange that I am just now noticing it. It’s strange because maybe I was starting to care too.

Thinking back I wonder if it really matters, the difference in opinion. Who cares if they care about different things than you? But, if you think about it, it does. It matters because the people that you see every day, who seem like their lives are perfect and that if they died today they would die happy, are not happy with themselves at all.

Girls at 16 years old are dieting because they want to get skinnier. 16 years old! Doesn’t that bother anyone else? Sometimes as young as 14 even. We haven’t even stopped growing yet and there are girls trying to shrink.

You all know what’s going on. You’ve posted blogs about it and read books and watched documentaries about it. On the OVS blog alone there have been a handful of posts about image insecurities. And we can address it, but are words really making a difference?

I guess I just don’t get it. We all have our insecurities, sure, but I just don’t get it. I don’t see the flaws that she sees on her body and she doesn’t see mine. She sees me in a different light that I see her and the truth is, we are both wrong. No matter how many times we hear it, it never seems to sink in. We are beautiful. If you see fat on your skinny legs, you’re beautiful. If you shave hair off your stomach, you’re beautiful. If you diet or stop eating because you see pudge in your abs, you’re beautiful. You’re crazy, but you’re still beautiful.

I don’t want to sound repetitive and write exactly what Aria and Jack and other bloggers have been saying. I just want our community, when you are reading one of these articles, to think for one second. If you are one of those people who thinks that a diet will make you look better to someone else; if you are one of those people who thinks that shortening your dress will make him want you more; if you are one of those people who just doesn’t feel good about your self, think, is the perfect image worth being unhappy? Because all it is and all it will ever be is an image of something that isn’t there. Hopefully, that message will sink in sooner rather than later.