On never being the cute girl.
I used to keep a daily drama diary. Not that I used to call it that, I’m sure in my adolescent angst I still just called it a diary, but looking back on it I’m pretty sure a more suitable name would have been Daily Drama Diary.
In this DDD I would write about, surprise!, the daily drama of my life, which at the time, really felt like the end of the world EVERYDAY. You were an adolescent once, you know what I’m talking about…I hope. Besides all the stories of hair pulling, face smacking and eye poking I imagined doing on all of those that made me miserable were entries I designed to help me become a “cute girl.” (I’m not going to lie, I’m a little embarrassed for myself…but I like to think we all had something like this and even if no one else did, I’m holding onto the lie. I am not above denial.) I dreamed that one day I would walk onto school campus and people would stop; the clouds would part, the birds would sing (and possibly dance) in unison, and mouths would be agape in awe and adoration. It would all be due to my meticulous planning of hairstyles, eye brow plucking, make-up and the super cute clothes I would purchase and wear from “5-7-9” (crazy, desperate dream of my middle school years was to be able to shop at 5-7-9 and then be brave enough to wear the stuff. Neither dreams came true. THANKGOD). All things that I talked about in detail in my DDD. This book is a treasure trove of CRAZY.
At any rate, I still hold onto that dream (minus the middle school campus because, ew! and the 5-7-9 mainly because I don’t think they exist anymore) in many ways. I’ve always wanted to be the cute girl (ie: hair always nicely done, perfect make-up, awesome clothes, immaculate accessories, a giggle that could knock men over with its melodious beauty) and still want to be, even at 26 (almost 27) years old. A part of me will always hold onto that dream.
Let’s get one thing straight, though – I do NOT think I’m a troll. I’ve come a long way over the last few years and have a tremendous respect for not just what I look like, but the person who made that happen (hint: me). I’m just saying I still wish that I had the a) ability and b) energy to be that put-together-cute girl who walks into every situation looking, well, put-together and cute.
But I have to face the facts, I am not that girl; I have doubts that I ever will be. And I’m okay with this (middle-school self is NOT but that’s alright because she’s a little straight out crazy plucked right out of Lady Gaga’s “Bad Romance” video. Heebies).
I’m okay with it because, let’s face it, I’ll never be the girl that wants to set aside 1-2 hours everyday just to get ready. I, in fact, set aside 20 minutes most of the time, and in some rare cases, just a mere 10 minutes.
I’m okay with it because no one will ever be able to say they don’t recognize me without make-up and my hair done (the chances are far higher that people would not recognize me WITH make-up and my hair done).
I’m okay with it because really, the dream of being a cute girl far exceeds the reality of me being a cute girl. I don’t pine after anyone who doesn’t already love me for who I am, and have no desire for anyone to pine after me because of how “cute” I am.
I like who I see in the mirror; I even think she’s beautiful.
Despite the fact that my hair is rarely ever done (unless you count 2 butterfly clips as “done”), my make-up is scarce, my clothes are generic, I have no clue what to do with accessories and my giggle mostly just surprises people with its ferocity rather than its melodious beauty.
Cheers to the cute girls AND to the rest of us.