Confessions of a “Plain Jane”

This afternoon, I started flipping through a local newspaper while eating lunch. Nothing in particular caught my eye except for one full-page ad that boldly proclaimed:

“LIVE HAPPY-With Slimming World!”

It was if the model knew I was shoving forkfuls of pasta into my mouth while reading. Sorry, weight loss program, but this bowl of fusilli smothered in sun dried tomato pesto would win out over some bullshit “diet” any day.

It’s easy for me to flip past ads like this now, but I didn’t always have this mindset.

Years ago, I might have lingered on the ad and wondered what this woman was doing that I wasn’t.

I would have coveted her self-discipline and her curves, wishing I could pull off the little black dress that she was rocking.

I would have googled the program and fantasized about how much better I could look, if only I could lose five/ten/fifteen/who knows how many pounds.

Today, I shrug and move on. And eat another mouthful of pasta.

So, what changed?

Like most young people, I went through a serious awkward phase between the ages of ten to fourteen. Glasses, massive breakouts, frizzy hair, smudged blue eye shadow, the works.

And when it was all over, it was just…over. My self-esteem issues lingered throughout high school and college, but it seems that even those days are finally behind me now. There was no incredible “glow up.” There was no dramatic Princess Diaries style transformation. I just looked like a taller version of the same kid I’d been before, with slightly less acne on a good day.

Oh, and I gave up the blue eye shadow. Not a great look.

I have come to embrace the fact that when it comes to my appearance, I’m a strictly average looking human being.

I don’t turn heads, I’m on the short side, and while I’m certainly thin enough to meet society’s irrelevant standards, my figure is more comparable to a surfboard than an hourglass.

And none of this really bothers me anymore.

It’s not like I had some major self-love epiphany or started repeating positive affirmations to myself.

I just sort of…stopped caring.

I do cherish my body. I’ve got two legs that can walk me to most places I need to go. I’ve got two eyes and adequate vision once I’ve put my contacts in. My lungs, heart, and other vital organs work just fine. I can put all five senses to good use, I’ve still got all my teeth, and overall, I have no serious complaints.

But as far as my outer appearance goes, I’m quite literally a “Plain Jane.”

I’ve noticed an interesting phenomenon. Whenever I make a remark or a joke about my “averageness,” my middle of the bell curve status, or my “Yea, I did wake up exactly like this, and left the house” aesthetic, a well-meaning friend or relative often responds by trying to assure me “Oh, stop! You’re beautiful!”

It’s rare that I actually say something along these lines — it’s not like my friends and I sit around rating each other — and to be fair, I understand that it puts the listener in a tough spot on the rare occasion that I do. It’s easy to see why many people feel that a compliment is the only appropriate response.

Maybe they think I am just fishing for compliments-nah, but I can totally see how it might come off this way. Maybe they really do see me in a way I don’t see myself-entirely possible, I suppose.

Most likely, they think my self-esteem needs a boost, but since I stopped giving a shit about “beauty,” my self-esteem has never been better.

But I can see where this knee-jerk reaction to assure any woman who is flippant about her appearance that, “no, no, you’re so beautiful” comes from. And to be completely honest, I’ve done the same thing when other women have made similar comments.

After all, society does set impossible standards that most of us women will never live up to, so we spend our lives chasing a form of perfection that we can’t really achieve.

And when we’re feeling down about ourselves, we often feel that things would be better if we just looked different, if we could just convince the world, “Yes, I’m beautiful.”

In response to all the bullshit spewing from the beauty, fashion, and entertainment industries, we tend to hit back with the message that we’re ALL beautiful, no matter what — fuck what society says, right? And when we’re feeling like crap, we might look in the mirror and tell ourselves just that.

So naturally, on the odd occasion that I comment on being average, someone in the vicinity will feel the need to respond with some form of reassurance that I must be wrong.

However, in a strange way, this perpetuates the same warped message that society sends us — that whether or not you are beautiful matters, and that not being beautiful is inherently bad.

I am aware that this is usually never the person’s intent when they respond this way, but it does point to the fact that often, we still put beauty on a high pedestal above other qualities, even when we’re trying to be progressive.

If I say that I’m bad at math, everyone nods and laughs with me-I once got a zero on a math test back in middle school. If I say I’m horrible at running, I get a similar response-I start wheezing after the first five minutes. If I say I have a short attention span, a quick temper, or a borderline addictive social media habit, no one feels the need to respond to the contrary, because none of these qualities make me a good or bad person, they’re just little pieces of who I am.

At times when I have overheard someone comment that they don’t find me attractive, my overall reaction usually boils down, “So what?” It’s taken a while to get to that point, but I’m glad I made it. Now, if someone said I would fail at being a writer, or that I was a horrible friend, or that I would poison someone with my cooking skills, then I would get offended.

As far as not being beautiful goes…meh.

This doesn’t mean I go around making digs at other people’s looks, or that I completely refrain from giving compliments based on appearance. Giving a friend a quick confidence boost by letting her know her new haircut is adorable or that her dress looks awesome is just a nice thing to do. And I know that looking clean and professional can be crucial in many situations in order to make a good impression-and hygiene is super important. Don’t worry, I shower every morning. But my outlook on the importance of being seen as “beautiful” has shifted as I’ve grown up.

Instead of pushing every single woman to see herself as physically beautiful, what if we just stopped putting any emphasis on beauty at all?

Look, I don’t need companies or magazines lecturing me about real beauty while selling products meant to correct my “flaws” (yes, I’m talking to you, Dove). Who cares if you’re attractive or not? The definition is subjective depending on who you ask, and it tells me nothing about who you are as a human being.

Yes, many people will still make judgments about others based on appearances, but personally, I don’t think those people are that great to hang out with, anyway.

Oh, you’ve got nice bone structure? You’re a few pounds overweight? You look amazing in a bikini? You live in baggy t-shirts? That’s not who you are — that’s just what you look like. I know this sounds like feminism 101 level basics, but in the age of Instagram models and YouTube makeup tutorials, it seems like we’re losing sight of it.

So, if you ever hear me make a joke about living the plain Jane life, feel free to laugh along — I won’t be upset. I’ll be happy that you enjoy my company for who I am and not what I look like.

Yes, I’ve got a big nose, acne scars, a gap between my crooked front teeth, and most people think I’m about five years younger than my actual age.

None of it is either good or bad-it’s just a product of genetics, and most days, I don’t pay it any mind. If I woke up tomorrow looking like a supermodel…I’d probably say the same thing, shrug at my reflection, and make another giant bowl of pasta.

And let me tell you, not caring feels like freedom.

Because at the end of the day, my body matters for what it can do, not what I see in the mirror — like most of us, I’m perfectly average, and that’s perfectly fine.