I have never thought I was pretty. Well, that's not quite true, I had Glamour Shots done and after their makeup and hairdo and photoshopping, I thought the pics were pretty.
I don't think I ever really thought about it until 4th grade. I got a REALLY short haircut and was even mistaken as a boy by a substitute teacher. That's when it all started to go downhill. Shortly after that we moved. Moving is hard enough for a confident kid, that haircut and the mistaken identitiy killed my confidence.
After that I remember only focusing on the negative. And there was(were?) a lot of negatives. I would scream at God...not out loud, but instead of praying. I can remember crying and asking why? Why wasn't it enough to curse me with red hair? Why did I have to have freckles, be short, be small for my age, get pimples, need glasses? Why on top of all of that did he have to make my sister pretty? I was miserable and full of self hate. All I wanted was for boys to think I was pretty. My sister had boyfriends from kindergarten and on. I honestly believed I would die a spinster. There was no light at the end of the tunnel.
In eighth grade I ran a time trial in gym and caught the eye of the high school Cross Country coach. This is when I finally started to feel confidence in something. I even dared to like boys and have crushes. Eventually I would end up dating (and engaged to) a fellow runner. It wasn't long until running no longer gave me confidence, I was told my thighs were developing and slowing me down. The tiny body that made me fast was finally going through puberty and ruining my running career! At this point I didn't really care, I had a boyfriend now and that was all that mattered. I clung to him, even though I never believed him to be the husband I wanted, I was sure he was my only chance. The biggest reason he wasn't marrying material was because he wanted to be a doctor. While most girls would think that's great, all I thought about was the constant threat of nurses chasing him (yes I watched too much TV) and the fact that he wouldn't be at home enough.
Once I got to college, I traded him in for a complete ass. A cocky guy who was not my type at all, but so confident that one drunken night I screwed up and hooked up with him. He then proceeded to cheat on me for the first 8 months, and there were red flags but again, I thought (and he reinforced it) that he was my only chance at being a wife. Even after the cheating was discovered, I was constantly told that he was the best I would ever do. Never did he make me feel pretty. And when I finally left him, he actually had the nerve to blame our non existent sex life on the fact that I was wearing sweats and no makeup while taking care of our baby. What makes that especially funny, is the absolutely frumpy ass ugly sweatshirt and baggy ass sweatpants he would wear...long before we ever had a baby. So I was supposed to keep myself looking perfect, but he could be a slob.
Enter Dave. Dave has always made me feel beautiful. I have never understood it but always believed that he truly felt that way. Here was this amazingly handsome and kind, good guy and he felt that way about me. After being with Dave I actually started to think I was too good for my ex.
But here we are 19 years later and I still don't think I am pretty.
I bring this up now because the number of strangers telling me I am pretty or a beautiful woman or some variation on that has increased dramatically. I am getting older and any possibility Dave had of ever convincing me that I was pretty is dwindling every day as I see the wrinkles and now the white hairs, appear. What are people seeing when they look at me? Am I too critical of myself? Don't they see that crevice the size of the Grand Canyon between my eyes? The one that makes my restless bitch face bitchier.
It isn't just older men, or even men at all. I had a lady absolutely raving about my hair the other day. We were talking about hair cuts and she said "Even if someone gave you a bad haircut, with your natural beauty, it wouldn't matter" WHO was she looking at? I get lots of compliments on my eyes and my hair...maybe those individually are okay, but what about my yucky nose and freckled face and all those lines I am getting??
All of this got me thinking...what would it take for me to believe I am pretty?
Of course my first thought was "If Rick Springfield said it, I'd believe it" (Yes, I know I have issues with the Rick obsession) But, as I thought about it, nope that wouldn't do it either. He's such a nice guy, especially to his fans, he would tell anyone they were pretty.
I concluded that as long as I have a mirror, I will never believe it. I am just too hard on myself. But the up side is....I have long passed caring anymore...as long as Dave finds me beautiful that is all that matters. That doesn't mean I won't stop trying to delay this aging process because I still think one day he will look at me and see an old lady and with his damn eternally youthful appearance he could trade my wrinkled ass in for a twenty something chick. (But I know you won't honey....because you love me...ME....not what I look like! Thank you!!)
I have gotten better at taking compliments. Before I kind of treated people like the liars I thought they were, now I just smile and thank them...Dave helped me with that!
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