If I were very beautiful, would I get more or less of what I wanted in my life? Would people listen to what I said or not, take me more or less seriously? Would I have more or fewer friends?
I feel invisible most of the time. “Invisible” often means “asexual” which often means “unfeminine” which often means “un-pretty.” I often wonder if being an old lady will be easier for me than for very very beautiful people, because I will be sort of…used to it.
What’s the difference between feeling beautiful and looking beautiful? I often feel fabulous and gorgeous when I probably don’t look that good: laughing and dancing come to mind. I don’t think the reverse has ever happened to me: looking good while feeling awful.
Some things that some people think make a woman beautiful I find really annoying or difficult or time-consuming to do: wax any part of my body, be thin, keep a manicure, blow-dry my hair, wear makeup, wear high heels, get a tattoo (although I still secretly want one), dye my hair (even though I think about it all the time) or indeed, even get it cut more than once every three months.
Some things that some people think make a woman beautiful I find really fun and easy and enjoyable: get massage and facials, paint my toenails, wear tight shirts, carry a cool purse, do face masks, wear earrings and necklaces, put product in my hair to make it extra curly, constantly reapply alluringly peppermint-scented lip balm.
The last time I felt really stunning, looks-wise, was probably at my friend Angela’s wedding back in May, in Seattle. I wore a deep pink dress my mom had bought me for Christmas and that one of the many excellent Amys in my life altered for me so as to make it even more awesome. I bought a bag and shoes and earrings and a necklace to go with it and spent a long time in front of the mirror getting ready and looking at myself and hoping that the person who was the inspiration for all this hotness would see me and rue the day. He didn’t, but I still felt really pretty.
I love the bathroom in this flat because, for some reason, I feel like I look really good in its mirror. I’ve often wished I looked as good in pictures as when I’m staggering to the shower in the morning and I catch a glimpse of myself out of the corner of my eye and think, Hey, I look pretty good!
I am not sure if any of the guys I’ve dated have found me physically attractive. I have always sort of assumed that they liked my personality and just put up with my looks until they decided to dump me. Wow. I hate that I just wrote that sentence. I promise I won’t ever say it aloud. (I also promise that I will work on dating guys who are a little more awesome.)
I tell people they’re hot all the time because I really do think they’re hot. I think that everyone I know is hot, literally everyone. Especially the women I hang out with; I can’t think of a single one who is other than stunning. Some of these friends sometimes tell me they think I’m hot too, and it’s all I can do to swallow down the NO I’M NOT YOU’RE JUST SAYING THAT HAVE YOU SEEN THE SIZE OF MY ASS and just say thank you. I wonder why I can believe that all my friends are really beautiful and not simultaneously believe that they think the same about me. I mean, why would they lie?
I feel really drawn to physical beauty but feel sort of shallow for wanting any myself.
Does physical beauty serve any sort of purpose?
I think very smooth glowing skin, interesting tattoos, excellent dance abilities, long eyelashes, well-defined shoulders, expressive lips, cool hair, big freaky smiles, sarcastic eyebrows, delicate hands, crazy inappropriate laughs, pugnacious butts, and high cheekbones are very beautiful.
I tend to be attracted to tall thin men and to short curvy women, although I can think of short curvy men (Jack Black) and tall thin women (Shane from The L Word) that sort of break that mode.
I know that the beauty standards we’re supposed to live up to are unrealistic and false and everything else: even the models and celebrities don’t really look the way they do in magazines and on TV and in the movies. I know this, and I try to celebrate deviations from that not-really-a-norm—but still. I was in Glassons today getting a headband for this eighties’ party I’m going to this weekend and there was this video for some singer whose name was Cheyenne, I think, and she was just amazingly, heart-stoppingly lovely in that sort of boho-long-blond-hair-jeans-and-a-tank-top way, and she was playing the guitar in the video and I immediately thought “What are the chances of her being gorgeous and thin and being able to play the guitar?” And I got really mad and felt bad for a little while, for not being thin and gorgeous and able to play the guitar. And then I wondered why I was actually angry at someone on a screen in Glassons. And somehow I think that has to do with those standards I mentioned at the top of this paragraph, but hell if I can figure out how.
I will often be attracted to someone I meet pretty quickly—I always think of it as recognition, somehow, like, “Oh, right. Hi. You’re the person I’m going to fall for. I’ve been wondering when you were going to show up.” Often I will start off thinking that the person is kind of nice to look at or whatever, but by the time I’ve gotten to know him a little more and am knee-deep in the crush, I will be convinced that other people are blind not to see this person’s beauty as clearly (and often inconveniently) as I see it. I notice that the people I love get more luscious the more I love them.
I’m interested in the kind of beauty that is fairly unselfconscious, you know, like the person brushes her hair in the morning or wear his best pair of retro sneakers if he’s going out for a big night but is not obsessed with how hot he or she is. However! I was just thinking of a couple of other beautiful people I know who spend a lot of time on their appearance and how they’re pretty compelling too. With them, it doesn’t seem like they’re trying too hard or being arrogant about it: they just like looking pretty and are interested in stuff like fashion and makeup and product. This seems really different from people who are very beautiful to look at but are kind of assholes about it, like they sort of know they’re hot and do everything they can to make sure you know it too…and that you are not as good as they are because you’re not as good-looking. I hate those kind of hot people.
What are the benefits of not being beautiful?
I wonder if I’ll ever stop thinking about this kind of stuff.