Ode to Beauty
As a kid I was always told that personality and inner beauty counted for more than looks, but that’s nonsense. We have eyes and most of what we perceive in the world comes in through them. Purely for survival, most of the decisions we have to make have to be snap judgments based on what we immediately see. When you’re driving a car and you need to hit your brakes real fast, that’s great, but when you’re meeting a person with a heart of gold for the first time and all you see is that she’s short, homely, and chubby…eh, not quite as much.
Did I overplay my hand? Forgive me. I meant to stick to general comments but I guess my self-absorption won’t allow me to keep myself out of it.
“A deep groan expressing a bottomless pit of sorrow and malaise escapes her lips, but she resolves to endure.”
If I were a boy, it wouldn’t be so bad to be me. I know I still wouldn’t be popular, but a boy can get by with other things. He can be smart, or funny, or athletic. If I was a boy I could play football, and I wouldn’t be much, but I could be on the team and stand around or whatever. I’d be good at that.
But no, I only have one set of expectations and I can’t even live up to those. I’m not pretty, and because I’m not, I’m not pleasant to be around either. If I say something funny, people ignore me. If I say something nice, they laugh. If I say something sarcastic, they think I’m mean. If I eat something, people look at me as if I were shoveling fistfuls of my own shit into my mouth.
“No wonder she’s so fat! Look at her! She eats FOOD! OOOOH”
Yes, I’ve tried dieting, Yes, I try to work out. But no, none of it does any good and by now I’m sick of trying to do everything right just so that I can be treated like crap for being who I am.
I wish I were pretty. No, not beautiful or gorgeous or stunning, just pretty. One step above cute, and a staircase above what I am now. I wish I was instantly pretty, but a new person entirely so I could just leave behind all of the tangled filth that is me.
Everyone wants to be someone else, so I don’t feel guilty for wanting the same thing. It’s just… I’m sure no one else wants to be me. Kaley and Melissa and Jessica- I’m sure someone wants to be them. There’s probably guys that people look up to, too. But me? Who looks at me when I walk by and goes “Gee, why wasn’t I lucky enough to be born her?”
Â I just want to be pretty. Pretty enough to be average, pretty enough that once in a while some fat chick looks at me and feels jealous shame. Pretty enough to be able to eat a hamburger without getting treated like I’m a leper and get a few “Yes”‘s when guys play the “Would you?” game.
Brian told me about that, but I’m still not sure it’s true. Like all guys are so horny they rate every girl in terms of whether or not they’d have sex with them. If it’s true, that’s got to be the most pathetic and disgusting thing I’ve ever heard. But what’s more pathetic is that I’d probably die of joy if I heard even one decent looking guy considered me “doable”. That’s what it is. I want to be a piece of meat to be rated and slobbered over and desired. I want to be a piece of meat because if I’m not, I’m just the gristle and I’d rather be eaten once than just thrown away.
All I know and need to know is that beauty is truth, and truth is ugly. Would be too much to ask that I be a pretty little lie?