The complex intersection between body image, trends, and clothing in your teens and twenties.

By Sadie Grunau 

I vividly remember the feeling I got when I put on those white, low-waisted skinny jeans in seventh grade. I was standing in my mom’s closet staring at myself in her full-length mirror. I was far too young to fathom the emotions that flooded my body.

Many words came to mind: big, ugly, exposed. I kept them on, though, and walked to school with my head down, because that is what all of the 12-year-old girls were wearing.

I completed that Wednesday at school thinking that every person I brushed past in the hall was thinking the exact same thing as me: “God, Sadie looks horrible in those jeans.”

There were countless other 12-year-olds wearing the same American Eagle pants. At the time, I thought none of them felt the same way I did. I thought that I was the only one trying to navigate the self-hatred that stemmed from the clothes I had put on that morning. 

I hid in art class, remained silent in science, and didn’t dare get up to go to the bathroom even if it felt like my bladder was nearly bursting. I tried to be invisible, so that no other soul would have another opportunity to look at my body in those jeans. 

I got home at the end of the day, went straight to my room, and peeled off those pants that had set my confidence back six years. And the next day, I did it all again. Clothes that didn’t fit me, trends that I felt like I had to follow because that is what social media was telling me to wear, and the irreversible blow to my confidence.

I was 12. 

I wish I could tell you that was the end of my battle with body image. I wish I could tell you that after I finished seventh grade I realized that clothes are meant to fit me, I am not meant to fit clothes. 

But I didn’t. 

I moved on to eighth grade and thought that Lulu Lemon leggings with a crop top was what I should be wearing to every one of the football games and basement parties where parents served us Sprite and Justin Bieber blared on a speaker. I thought that constantly feeling uncomfortable was inevitable and that my insecurities were my fault. I thought I had to change myself to fit the trends some influencer from Los Angeles deemed “in” that year. 

Feeling insecure in the skin you have been given, and are stuck with, is a mind game that no person should ever have to experience. It is belittling, gut-wrenching, and suffocating. But what is even worse, is feeling like you have to wear the clothes that make your confidence dwindle in order to fit in. 

The National Organization for Women reports in 2023 that 53% of girls are unhappy with their bodies at the age of 13. This number grows to 73% by the age of 17. 

What these numbers tell me is I was never alone. Chances are, a lot of the other girls walking through the halls of my middle school or sitting in those basements were feeling the exact same way as me. Trying to navigate the feeling of hating yourself, but never letting another person know you do. 

We were all way too young. 

Today, I am 21 years old and the narrative isn’t much different. I still buy clothes that girls with 4 million followers on Tik Tok tell me I “need,” even if they don’t make me feel confident. Now, I see them on my iPhone 14 instead of my bright blue iPod touch, but the message is the same. We are constantly flooded with material on social media that is poisoning our brains; we have been since downloading Instagram in sixth grade. 

Despite still struggling, I have made a lot of changes in my life that have allowed me to begin unlearning a lot of the lessons our society has taught us. I have learned that skipping meals is not an accomplishment and exercising to an extreme so that you can wear those black miniskirts everyone is raving about should never be a goal. 

Bodies are not a trend, and wearing clothes that make you feel comfortable and confident should always come first. I wish I could go back to that little girl standing in front of the mirror, hating the reflection she saw, and tell her that it’s OK to be a size 6 instead of a 2, wearing baggy pants does not mean you are ugly, and most of all, you are not alone. You never have been.