2003-04-20 - 9:23 p.m.
All about my face
All my life, I’ve had a strange relationship with my face. I’ve never thought it was a good face, or even an interesting face. Occasionally, I would look in the mirror and think it was an OK face, but that was only in my own home. My mother made me wear makeup when I was 11. I’ve had acne since I was 9. My skin is bad, my nose is on the big side, my jaw is long and my chin is pointy.
But lately? I have a pretty face.
This is a recent development. Too recent, sure, and a long time coming, but it’s here. I used to rely solely on the opinions of others about my face. People have told me I was ugly (UGLY, not simply not pretty) since I was a kid. I’ve always felt second best because of it, too. My father even told me I was ugly. I hated pictures of myself. My friends never once told me I was pretty, even in my worst moments of self-hatred. That changed in college, but by then I just figured everyone was being nice.
Being ugly, or thinking one is ugly, is not entirely a bad thing. I spent a lot of time developing my personality and my brains. I was annoying as hell as a kid, but I was damn smart. I’ve always been smart. I’ve relied on the smart factor to get me by, because I needed people to see past my face. Then I worked on being nice. And polite. And mature. And sensitive. I had to be all these things, even if I didn’t succeed, because I didn’t have a face I could fall back on.
But recently I’ve kind of realized something. I’m pretty. I’ve seen some pretty good pictures of myself lately. I have pretty brown hair and pretty blue eyes (I love my eyes, actually—they’re blue and green and gray, with bits of yellow and orange). My skin is still kind of icky, but when I take care of it I have a lovely, milk-and-roses complexion. My nose is still on the big side, but it’s not so noticeable from the front. I have great teeth. I have a nice smile.
I used to hate my smile. It’s gummy. It screws up my face. But recent events have proven to me that it’s not the smile itself that’s nice, it’s the feeling behind it. I have a great smile now, a genuine smile. A charming smile.
What’s brought all this on? G-d knows. Zoloft, probably. 3WA, definitely. Ever since I started meeting people from chat, they’ve commented on how attractive I am. Someone even told someone else that I have a charisma that just doesn’t come across online, and it’s damn sexy (I paraphrase here, but she said it, I swear). And even though I no longer feel like I need to rely on the approval of others, the Visitor thought I was attractive enough to kiss me, and he’s damn hot, so I must be cute! I was telling D about this new revelation; I said to him, “You know, I’ve finally realized that I’m not nearly as ugly as I thought.” His answer was, “Took you long enough!” And he meant it. I used to hang on every word that boy said. I used to live for his compliments. I don’t have to live on his latest, but it was certainly nice to hear.
I don’t know. It’s all weird. I feel confident these days, at least about my attractiveness. Which is great, of course. It’s just hard to adjust.
I’m not used to this. I’m used to feeling really shy and acting bitchy to hide from strangers. I’m used to countless rejections. I’m used to throwing myself at men, which I don’t want to do anymore. It’ll be an adjustment, but chances are it will be fun.
Watch out, world! I’m hot now.
Poor world won’t know what hit it.
