“The Pretty One”: Redefining My Value

I was always “the pretty one.”

I don’t say that to sound conceited. If you know me, you’d know I’d never describe myself that way. I’ve never taken compliments well. I brush them off. I literally can’t hear them. “Oh, they’re just being nice.”

Because for so long, I carried shame about my appearance.

Growing up, there was a strong focus on how I looked. People constantly called me pretty or cute but rarely anything else. If anyone ever called me strong, smart, brave or kind, it either didn’t happen often or wasn’t loud enough for me to actually hear it and believe it. I was just pretty.

And at the time, I liked it. Of course I did. Who wouldn’t want to be called pretty?

But those compliments and the hyper-focus on my looks planted a seed in my little-girl brain.

This is your value. This is what you have to offer the world.

Fast forward to when I entered the workplace full-time at 18 in a male-dominated industry. The “compliments” from older men were constant. I heard comments about my hair, how I smelled, and even how I looked in certain pants. What I now understand were completely offside remarks were just part of my reality. Looking back, I could write a book on workplace harassment. Sadly, I’m sure many women could.

One specific moment still makes my skin crawl. A C-level executive once looked at the elbow patches on my sweater and said, "…those belong on your knees."

Yup. You read that right.

He laughed it off as a joke. And, to my shame, I probably did too. As shocking as it was, I wasn’t even surprised. By that point, I felt like I had heard it all.

Again though, it was just reinforcement: This is my value. This is what I have to offer the world.

I put myself through university, class by class, while working full-time to pay my bills. But I graduated with a diploma, not a degree. And instead of feeling proud of my accomplishment, I felt ashamed. A diploma is nothing to be proud of, I told myself. If I wasn’t pretty, there’s no way I’d have gotten the jobs I did with only a diploma.

For years, I was very social. I always made time for after-work drinks with the “cool kids.” And nearly every romantic relationship I had started in the workplace. Don’t judge me…it’s hard to meet people! So not only was my professional worth tied to my looks, but my personal worth was too.

As I got older, I fell into what I now understand as a perfectionism trap. My work had to be flawless—no errors, no mistakes, 10/10—to prove to others (and myself) that I was smart and capable. I felt like I had SO much more to prove, so I worked extra hard to compensate, to show that I was more than just how I looked.

Even when I got positive performance reviews, promotions, or recognition, I just couldn’t believe any of it. Deep down, I convinced myself my success had more to do with my appearance and being in the “cool kids” club than my actual abilities.

Brutal, right?

I self-sabotaged. I held myself back. I avoided the spotlight. Imposter syndrome owned me. And it had started so early on in that little-girl brain and the narrative about my value that I held on to.

But over the past few years, I’ve started to break free. Not completely, but I’ve come a long ass way. The fact that I’m even writing this and admitting it to myself is proof of that.

I know I’m valued. I know I’m capable. I know I am so much more than how I look. I finally feel proud of the life I’ve built and the work I’ve done.

That doesn’t mean imposter syndrome is gone. It still creeps in, especially as we build Vienna Waits. But at least now, it’s no longer tied to my appearance.

I recently heard an incredible quote: “The antidote to imposter syndrome is AUTHENTICITY”. SO GOOD, right?

When I started showing up as my full, unfiltered self, when I stopped trying to prove I was “enough” and just was my true self, that’s when the magic happened.

Imposter syndrome doesn’t just vanish. Not with success. Not with external validation. That nagging voice whispering you don’t belong doesn’t go silent. If anything, the higher you climb, the louder it can get.

But you can change the narrative in your head.

You can choose to see yourself as more than just the story you’ve been told or the one you’ve been telling yourself.

Give it a try. And I promise, it changes everything.