On being the ugly girl
He said you're really an ugly girl, but I like the way you play.
This post is inspired by a conversation I had last night with bobcatgoldfish. I don't respond well to being told I'm pretty/beautiful/even vaguely normal looking. I frequently claim to be "freaky" or "weird" looking and don't expect people to respond with "No you don't..." I have this whole defense mechanism built up in terms of my appearance. People trying to tell me I'm not "freaky looking" usually results in a rant something like:
"Yes I am. I'm not conventionally attractive. I have a big nose, crooked teeth and I look like a rat. I'm coming to terms with my freakishness. People like to take photos of me because I have an interesting face, not because it's 'pretty.'"
I'd like to talk about being
I've spent my whole life listening to people call me ugly. I suffered a myriad of cruel nicknames from a very young age - most notably I was called "Bugs Bunny" for years, on account of the fact that my teeth stick out. One of my most horrific memories involves being called ugly. My younger sister came home in floods of tears because one of the older boys in the neighbourhood had called her big sister "ugly". My father, never one for tact or dealing well with situations, stopped the car upon passing this boy in the street and proceeded to tell him in front of myself and my sister how appalled he was that this boy had called me such a horrible name. The thing is, that even then, I had a concept of what ugly was, and I knew that I was it. So, listening to my Dad rant and rave about how beautiful I was didn't make a difference. I already knew I was ugly.
When I was seventeen, a boy I broke up with told the whole fucking world how fucking hideous I was - "nice ass, lovely tits, shame about the face..." When I was in high school, boys didn't look at me twice (high school boys are much more shallow than older boys. Additionally, they're embarrassed to admit to appreciating the weird chick... God... what's that fantastic Juno quote? The funny thing is that Steve Rendazzo secretly wants me. Jocks like him always want freaky girls. Girls with horn-rimmed glasses and vegan footwear and Goth makeup. Girls who, like, play the cello and read McSweeneys and want to be children’s librarians when they grow up. Oh yeah, jocks totally eat that shit up. They just won’t admit it because they’re supposed to be into, like, the perfect cheerleaders, you know? Like Leah, who, incidentally, is into teachers.)
Even my best friend in high school (Laura, who I've recently had a major argument with) made constant jokes about the size of my nose. My most important ex - the guy I gave two and a half years of my life to, tells people I'm ugly. He calls me "Rat Face" to his friends and on internet forums, he even compared me to an unattractive male politician in a LiveJournal post.
Anyway, I'll stop whining - you get the general idea. I am aware that I am what is conventionally considered "ugly". I'm always self-depracating about it - in fact I remember joking to friends a few days ago that "I've got an ugly face but great tits, so as long as you don't look at me from the neck up, it's all good". Even when Matt says I'm pretty, I tell him he's lying because I KNOW I'm not. He obviously finds something attractive about me, but in my opinion there's a big difference between finding a girl attractive and them being "pretty". After all, I've been attracted to lots of people who aren't considered attractive by society's standards.
After years of beating myself up about my appearance, I have a love/hate relationship with my face. Sometimes I look in the mirror and get excited by my quirkiness; sometimes I'm glad to look different from the masses; I think that my face gets me modeling work so I should embrace the weirdness. Then of course, there are days when I don't feel so good about it. There have been several mornings when getting ready, I've screamed at the mirror, "WHY CAN'T I JUST BE PRETTY? Please, God, let me be pretty! Why do other girls get to be pretty and not me?!" There's a line from my favourite film, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, irritatingly spoken by the beautiful Kate Winslet where she speaks about being ugly,
When I was a kid, I thought I was. I can't believe I'm crying already. Sometimes I think people don't understand how lonely it is to be a kid, like you don't matter. So, I'm eight, and I have these toys, these dolls. My favorite is this ugly girl doll who I call Clementine, and I keep yelling at her, "You can't be ugly! Be pretty!" It's weird, like if I can transform her, I would magically change, too.
I always cry at that moment (even though Kate Winslet is disgustingly pretty) because I understand Clementine's frustration. I've thought about having a nose job in the past. I really do have issues with my nose and always have. Matt says it's the cutest fucking nose in the whole world and he would cry if I got a nose job. I think he's insane. I spoke to my friend, however, who had a nose job, and she warned me, "It won't fix everything. You'll find something else about your face to dislike. I discovered my chin was too small after having my nose done."
So, I think I'll keep my freaky face for now but I'll always look at other girls with their little button noses and straight teeth, and think "why not me?"
If anyone responds to this post with "You're not ugly! You're pretty!" I may need to disown them as a friend. This is not my way of seeking compliments. It's just some thoughts.
This post is inspired by a conversation I had last night with bobcatgoldfish. I don't respond well to being told I'm pretty/beautiful/even vaguely normal looking. I frequently claim to be "freaky" or "weird" looking and don't expect people to respond with "No you don't..." I have this whole defense mechanism built up in terms of my appearance. People trying to tell me I'm not "freaky looking" usually results in a rant something like:
"Yes I am. I'm not conventionally attractive. I have a big nose, crooked teeth and I look like a rat. I'm coming to terms with my freakishness. People like to take photos of me because I have an interesting face, not because it's 'pretty.'"
I'd like to talk about being
I've spent my whole life listening to people call me ugly. I suffered a myriad of cruel nicknames from a very young age - most notably I was called "Bugs Bunny" for years, on account of the fact that my teeth stick out. One of my most horrific memories involves being called ugly. My younger sister came home in floods of tears because one of the older boys in the neighbourhood had called her big sister "ugly". My father, never one for tact or dealing well with situations, stopped the car upon passing this boy in the street and proceeded to tell him in front of myself and my sister how appalled he was that this boy had called me such a horrible name. The thing is, that even then, I had a concept of what ugly was, and I knew that I was it. So, listening to my Dad rant and rave about how beautiful I was didn't make a difference. I already knew I was ugly.
When I was seventeen, a boy I broke up with told the whole fucking world how fucking hideous I was - "nice ass, lovely tits, shame about the face..." When I was in high school, boys didn't look at me twice (high school boys are much more shallow than older boys. Additionally, they're embarrassed to admit to appreciating the weird chick... God... what's that fantastic Juno quote? The funny thing is that Steve Rendazzo secretly wants me. Jocks like him always want freaky girls. Girls with horn-rimmed glasses and vegan footwear and Goth makeup. Girls who, like, play the cello and read McSweeneys and want to be children’s librarians when they grow up. Oh yeah, jocks totally eat that shit up. They just won’t admit it because they’re supposed to be into, like, the perfect cheerleaders, you know? Like Leah, who, incidentally, is into teachers.)
Even my best friend in high school (Laura, who I've recently had a major argument with) made constant jokes about the size of my nose. My most important ex - the guy I gave two and a half years of my life to, tells people I'm ugly. He calls me "Rat Face" to his friends and on internet forums, he even compared me to an unattractive male politician in a LiveJournal post.
Anyway, I'll stop whining - you get the general idea. I am aware that I am what is conventionally considered "ugly". I'm always self-depracating about it - in fact I remember joking to friends a few days ago that "I've got an ugly face but great tits, so as long as you don't look at me from the neck up, it's all good". Even when Matt says I'm pretty, I tell him he's lying because I KNOW I'm not. He obviously finds something attractive about me, but in my opinion there's a big difference between finding a girl attractive and them being "pretty". After all, I've been attracted to lots of people who aren't considered attractive by society's standards.
After years of beating myself up about my appearance, I have a love/hate relationship with my face. Sometimes I look in the mirror and get excited by my quirkiness; sometimes I'm glad to look different from the masses; I think that my face gets me modeling work so I should embrace the weirdness. Then of course, there are days when I don't feel so good about it. There have been several mornings when getting ready, I've screamed at the mirror, "WHY CAN'T I JUST BE PRETTY? Please, God, let me be pretty! Why do other girls get to be pretty and not me?!" There's a line from my favourite film, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, irritatingly spoken by the beautiful Kate Winslet where she speaks about being ugly,
When I was a kid, I thought I was. I can't believe I'm crying already. Sometimes I think people don't understand how lonely it is to be a kid, like you don't matter. So, I'm eight, and I have these toys, these dolls. My favorite is this ugly girl doll who I call Clementine, and I keep yelling at her, "You can't be ugly! Be pretty!" It's weird, like if I can transform her, I would magically change, too.
I always cry at that moment (even though Kate Winslet is disgustingly pretty) because I understand Clementine's frustration. I've thought about having a nose job in the past. I really do have issues with my nose and always have. Matt says it's the cutest fucking nose in the whole world and he would cry if I got a nose job. I think he's insane. I spoke to my friend, however, who had a nose job, and she warned me, "It won't fix everything. You'll find something else about your face to dislike. I discovered my chin was too small after having my nose done."
So, I think I'll keep my freaky face for now but I'll always look at other girls with their little button noses and straight teeth, and think "why not me?"
If anyone responds to this post with "You're not ugly! You're pretty!" I may need to disown them as a friend. This is not my way of seeking compliments. It's just some thoughts.