I'm beautiful. I'm hideous. I'm both.

December 20, 2000

I guess I have some issues where my looks are concerned. I was really, really cute and pretty when I was little. Mom recently told me that when I was 2 (it's not like I can remember that far back), she and her now ex-sister-in-law did some Christmas shopping in Beverly Hills (ugh, I *know,* but anyway...) and brought me along. I had hair down to my waist at the time, and I was wearing a red velvet coat with white fake fur trim (Grandma didn't have anyone else to spoil at the time), so you can guess how cute I must have looked. Mom swears that when we stopped for lunch at an outdoor place, dozens of complete strangers kept staring at this tiny, cute thing with all the pretty hair...

Yet I've spent a lot of my life believing that I'm not attractive and never will be. I am by no means the stereotypical all-American beauty - I'm a brunette, my skin's pale and a tiny bit sallow, I'm not superskinny, I look better smirking than I do smiling (at least I think so), and even though my parents insist my eyes are blue, they're definitely green and are prone to turning gray and back to green of their own accord. It's not always easy looking like me, especially when you live in sunny Southern California, where most of the other girls go out of their way to keep their hair dyed blonde, their clothing size a single-digit number, their teeth bonded, and bother to get colored contact lenses. Of course, the fact that eventually their hair will all fall out from the bleaching (it happened to Blondie's Debbie Harry) offers some consolation. Or some of them will eventually get into legal and/or medical trouble for sneaking illegal diet pills over the border (most of the skinnies I knew after 8th grade bought them in bulk in Tijuana, Mexico because it was easy and cheap and those things work quite well - at the expense of your internal organs, that is).

I know it's wrong to judge someone based on how they look. And I know it's what's on the inside that counts. No one knows that better than I do. When I was still little and cute, there were other children who didn't like me because of it and I could never understand why. When I was older and trying to get into the drama department, I was always furious that the "prettiest" girls (nearly all of whom had the aforementioned "all-American" look) always got all the good parts and when I *did* get speaking parts, I played the "fat" girlfriend (I was a size 11 in the 8th grade) or was automatically stuffed into the ugliest dress in the entire wardrobe department. I don't think I'll ever get over that. It really, really hurt me.

There's a side of me that wants to be plain. I guess it makes sense, since jealous people can be downright vicious. And I don't want to be judged based on my looks. It happens to me on a daily basis and I don't think I will ever like it. People think if you're pretty, you can't be smart, but I *am* smart. And if by some coincidence you're pretty *and* smart, it intimidates males and makes other females *really* jealous. And when that happens, you just can't win since the whole damn world is against you.

I bother to do my hair and makeup every single day, even if I don't plan to leave the house at all. I don't know why I bother. But I just *have* to do it or I feel hideous. Maybe I'm just vain, or maybe I just hate my unruly hair and less-than-perfect skin too much. I used to worry more about my looks (which contributed to an eating disorder that has plagued me off and on since age 13 - I will spare you the details), and I know I've gotten better about it, but I suspect this will haunt me for a very, very long time.

Email me if you feel like it.

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