You’re prettier than me (maybe).
It’s true, objectively speaking. You’re thinner, you can rock those high waisted pants that I’ve never really been brave enough to buy, and you’ve got hardcore RBF.
Yup, you know you’re pretty.
Does it ever bother you? People staring at you when you walk into the room?
Do you ever want to hide? Just be incognito so that you don’t get attention that you didn’t want?
Do you want attention?
I was kind of fat at one point in my life. And I wore layers upon layers of clothes to hide my body. I remember getting a little excited the first time I caught a guy looking at me.
Have you ever felt that? That weird mix of surprise and satisfaction, savoring the attention but also simultaneously not knowing what to do about that attention?
The bitter part of me doesn’t believe you ever have.
Growing up, the words I would have given you would have been “boy crazy” or “immodest”. The accompanying mindset was that you were asking for attention.
So now, when I see you, I get uncomfortable.
I wonder if I stand a chance to also get attention if we were side-by-side in a social situation. People pay attention to pretty girls, right?
I worked really hard to be interesting so that I could hold up my own next to you. If I’m not the prettiest I could at least be the smartest or funniest.
And all of that is so fucked up, right?
It implies that there’s competition between you and me. That there is only a handful of ways that someone can be pretty, and also that if someone doesn’t fit that specific mold, then they aren’t pretty. It’s a tough thought habit to break.
Just because there’s one stunning woman in the room doesn’t mean there can’t be others.
Pinterest told me that “her beauty doesn’t take away from yours” but man is that so hard to get.
Everything is about the pretty girl winning. Hermione isn’t interesting until she gets a makeover. Cinderella doesn’t stand a chance without a fancy dress. Literally which show doesn’t have some sort of “ugly duckling into beautiful swan” moment?
I don’t know about you guys, but I’m kind of starting to think that there maybe aren’t “swans” and “ducklings”.
We’re just people.
With faces and bodies and acne and muffin tops and frizzy hair. Maybe the prettiest women aren’t the ones who’ve perfected some sort of beauty standards, they’re just humans who figured out how to be attractively comfortable in their own skin.