Pams are pretty!

3 May


 The year is 2011. Two-thousand-and-eleven. Twenty-eleven. Twenty-aught-eleven. Whatever way you pronounce it, it is the future! I am 24 years old (I originally typed “23”, and had to think about it for a minute; is this a sign of aging?) and livin’ this big ole’ weird lyfe to the fullest extent. I wake up every morning, look at myself in the mirror and say “Whoa! Look at you! You’re the prettiest lady!” just like the rest of you. Right, ladies? Right?

Ooh la la!

I'm the prettiest of ladies.

I wish it were that easy. Like a lot of women, unfortunately, I am more inclined to to look in the mirror and see –

”]”]Gwaaaah!(Damn it, even the model in the “ugly” picture is pretty.)

But sometimes I just feel like the ugliest girl in the whole world! Please hold your “you’re beautiful”s and “shut up, Pam”s until the end of the post. I know a lot of people feel the same way, probably more frequently than I do, so in no way is this a cry for people to tell me how gorgeous I am. Which I am. I’m the prettiest princess.

As if I’m the first person to say this – society/culture/friends/assholes are constantly setting people up to feel crappy about themselves. It’s not always intentional; actually, it usually isn’t intentional at all. Like when a co-worker says something about “well, that’s just the way you’re built!” or if a little kid asks what’s all over your face – never intentional. But people, like Pams, can be sensitive to statements about their appearance. Probably because they feel like their appearance has defined who they are their entire lives.

And in a lot of ways, I do feel like that. What’s more important than what someone looks like?

When you really think about it…there’s a whole lot that’s more important. Unless you’re trying to identify a body, there’s really no reason to absolutely know and examine how someone looks. I’ve spent my entire adult (and most of my adolescent) life comparing myself to the gorgeous girls who effortlessly have perfect complexions and can slip into weird tube top dress things. And then, something amazing happened.

I met this really really gorgeous girl. She took my breath away the first time I met her, honestly. Every time I saw her subsequently, it was like being in the same room as a movie star – I was being pretty gay about the whole thing.

My friends agreed. “Yeah, dude, she’s THE HOTTEST GIRL IN THE WUUUUURLD” [sic] they would sing! But as it turns out…

*cricket chirp*

…they don’t care. Nobody cares. My boyfriend doesn’t care. My JJ doesn’t care. You know what really matters in life? Being secure enough in the looks your parents gave to you, to the point that you can operate on a daily basis without thinking you’re a fat piece of, well, gross stuff.

Having friends that actually care about you is important!

(And I have one million of them!)

Spending time on things other than your looks is important!

(This includes actions and thoughts!)

Exploring more hobbies than naked hula hooping is important!

(Actually a real hobby, so I’ve found!)

This might sound like a lecture to you, but it’s really just a lecture to me. So that I stop worrying about my looks all the time 😀


temporary tatz

Even when I'm making this dumb face.

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