Growing up, I’ve always felt underestimated. In elementary school my mom made me wear frilly dresses with stockings that had hearts on them, and shiny Mary-Janes with bows. One of my favorite recess games to play was kickball. I still remember the very first time I time I went up to base, everyone came in less than 15 feet from me. I guess I couldn’t blame them. I was the second shortest person in class, and a girl at that. Needless to say, my kickball debut was a hit and I made it to second base. And the day I caught Daniel Graham’s ball outfield in my frilly dress and shiny shoes, was the day I became one of the third grade’s most valuable players.
Fast forward to the present, and not too much has changed. Instead of my kickball skills, it’s my intelligence, wit, talent, and topics of interest that are always chopped and screwed. It’s become predictable at this point. Unfortunately, it even makes me underestimate myself sometimes. It’s part truth, part inferiority complex. Fortunately, I’m too stubborn to let it defeat me. The stigma that stems from my party pics, vulgar language, and addiction to silliness help me weed out the crabgrass in my life, and adds fuel to the fire in my soul.
The best part about being judged inaccurately, is that you get to prove people wrong. And when people underestimate you, there’s no way to go but up. The redemption is sweeter than guava chiffon pancakes. The truth is, you don’t need to prove anything to anyone. Long as you prove it to yourself.