This is almost a follow-up of sorts to my last post (Being Okay is okay, or whatever the hell I titled it… ). I am a totally average looking woman. Top to bottom (oh la la). I’m about 5 foot, 3 inches-ish, depending on my posture and shoes. I weigh anywhere from 130 to a 140 pounds, depending on how stressed I’ve been and how much I’ve been drinking (mmmm, delicious, empty calories from alcohol), I have wrinkles, I have acne (because God hates me and wants me to look old as fuck, but still awful like a teenager, at the same fucking time), I have grey in my hair (which is never styled correctly and honestly is kinda turning into a mullet as we speak)… and you know what? I’m okay with it. I mean, I’m using wrinkle cream and scheduling a hair cut soon, but….
So, guy tells me I’m beautiful. I argue. I know he can’t be like, “Oh, you’re so average, just my type!” I get it. I do. But… not every ugly duckling turns into a beautiful swan. It’s fine. And blah blah blah beauty is in the eye of the beholder… unless guys are blind, I’m not beautiful, and again, it’s cool. When I have these types of conversations, I’m not sad, I’m not angry, I’m not insecure, or being all woe is me, fishing for compliments, I’m being honest with and about myself, and I’m happy that I’m able to do that.
I think because I’ve never been pretty, that has never been a crutch for me to fall back on, I’ve become more engaging, more clever, more kindhearted. Not that attractive people can’t be those things, I know a woman, she is fucking flawless. Airbrushed perfection. Photoshopped goodness IRL. And she has the biggest heart I’ve ever encountered. But, again, being honest about and with myself, if I were beautiful, I’d probably be a bitch. I’m kind of a bitch now, looking average so, God help erryone if I was good looking.
We put too much stock in trying to fit molds and expectations and having perfect eyebrows and.. I try to look good. I do. I wear make-up. I have cleavage sometimes. But I know what my limitations are, and I’m not killing myself trying to achieve things that are just impossible. I’m not trying to model. I’m not trying to chat up millionaire playboys. If we could start feeling good about looking totally average, instead of being sad about not looking beautiful, how much happier would we be?