Pretty

A friend was whining about being single, and another friend immediately tried to set us up.

"M is single too, you guys should hook up!"

"Well, she's smart, fun, and seems like she's got that "lady in the street but a freak in the bed" thing going on... but I'm at the point in my life where I want a meaningless short-term relationship with a hot girl. M is more the kind of girl that I'd like to marry once I'm too grown up to date bimbos."

"Dude, don't tell a girl she's not pretty! That's against some sort of code of honor."

"I didn't say she's not pretty. I said she's not hot. And I said that she's probably good in bed and that I'd marry her in five years... I think that balances out."

I don't usually feel pretty. I feel like the sloppy fat girl, too lazy to find an outfit that isn't a t-shirt and jeans. Hair only brushed about half the time. Usually it's in a ponytail. At some point this summer, I stopped thinking about makeup. I hate tennis shoes, or any closed shoe for that matter, so my feet are constantly dirty. My teeth aren't shiny white and they're kind of crooked. I have a gap in my two front teeth. My legs are covered in scars, some of them my own doing, some of them circumstance. I don't usually feel pretty. No one gives me much evidence on the contrary. It's so rare that someone call me pretty, or even cute. Beautiful and gorgeous are out of the question. I accept this. But just once, I'd like to be the pretty girl. Even if it's when I'm sitting with my guy friends, playing cards. Even if it's when I'm with my sorority girl friends. Just once, I'd like to believe someone could look at me and think, "She is so pretty." Once, I was talking to a girl, one of my close friends. She told me she was nervous about how well her boyfriend and I got along. I asked her if she REALLY thought her boyfriend would ever leave her for me. I thought for sure she'd say no. She looked at me, entirely serious, and said "I may have a slightly better body, but you have a ridiculously pretty face." Ugh. I'm such a "Tell me I'm pretty!" insecure bitch. But the time that I met a guy at a party, he danced with me, I could smell the liquor on him, but my god it was attention. It was vaguely creepy, him being so liquored up and all, but at another party, he remembered me. He hugged me. He was wearing his beer goggles again. But my god, attention twice from the same person. I didn't even seek him out. It's wrong to base my self-worth on how many drunken idiots hit on me. And yet I see it happening. It's so fucking pathetic. My own self-degradation is getting old and tired. I know this. That's why I'm trying to get the thoughts out.

View Thinker #77406d's profile

I understand where you're coming from. I felt pretty for about six months in 2003, four months in 2004, and I have now since June. This time is different, it's permanent. It's not "Oh, I've got a hot girl/guy on my arm, so I'm pretty" this time. The solution for me was to realize that everyone likes different things. No matter what it is, someone will like it. If there's an internet community for people who like to put on tutus and roll around in devil's food cake batter while singing "Mammy", then there are people who will like the way I or you look. Part two of that is developing an "I look like this, I act like this, I think like this, take it or take a flying fuck at a rolling doughnut" attitude. Good luck.

View Thinker #f5253f's profile

Thanks for the comment. I swear I'm not missing the point, but um, does that internet community really exist? Cause that's sort of amazing.

View Thinker #77406d's profile

I dunno, actually. I can't search for it because I'm on my bossman's computer. But I bet there is. Definately tutu communities, definately cake batter communities. I actually hope that one exists, especially if they sing "Mammy."

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