by
Ashley Kim
A Common App Personal Statement
Last year, I abandoned my Tumblr 1 account because it was consuming my life and taking away precious time from more meaningful pursuits. Reposting hundreds of pictures, audio tracks, and the occasional quotes that piqued my interest turned 5 P.M. to 2 A.M. in the blink of an eye. Within these wasted hours, however, was the essence of who I was, preserved by the assortment of media that conveyed my thoughts and personal style.
As I sifted through the pages of my past that had been untouched for a year, I became increasingly confused and appalled. While pictures and text of emaciated girls, clothes, and wish lists flooded the screen, I could only think, “This can’t be right. This isn’t my blog.” This startling unfamiliarity revealed how disillusioned my mind had been; how every page filled with posts about dieting, feeling fat, and skinny, skinny girls did not come close to representing the present me. Back then, I wanted to be like them, and in all honesty, I still do. However, the initial gut-wrench of disgust seeing the blog I once thought was beautiful and (thin)spirational really showed me how much I grew in a year. Escaping from the “nothing tastes as good as skinny feels” mindset and separating myself from thoughts of personal dissatisfaction and bleak hope, I had unknowingly settled into myself.
This summer, I dieted to shed some weight before I proudly embraced my high school seniority. I wanted to feel lighter, happier, and beautiful. However, there was a change in my subconscious as I decided to tackle this “need” healthily. I had some of the most intense workouts while I devoted two hours a day watching and following the Elvis Presley-esque workout instructor of p90x. Now, my pants feel oddly looser and my appetite diminished, but more importantly, I am much more satisfied with myself and thankful for all that I have.
Over the course of a year, this change in my subconscious subtly transformed me into someone who was optimistic and confident. By letting go of the personal dissatisfactions and insecurities that stemmed from others’ views of “perfection,” I had torn down the barrier that had kept me from accepting and appreciating myself. A single press of the keyboard showed just how much my views on perfection had changed. Being perfect no longer meant meeting up to others’ expectations; rather, it meant meeting up to my own. Realizing this, I closed the webpage not with feelings of disappointment and despair, but instead with those of liberation and accomplishment.
