Being Fazed

Currently sporting my hair in Pocahontas style braids. This only happened *after* I came home for the night.

So last weekend during the drunken-ness, this guy kept asking Bailey if she knew how gorgeous she is.

And don't get me wrong-- she is, in fact, gorgeous. Then a little later he started complimenting a different girl on her looks.

There were three girls on the porch. He never said a word to me.

In fact, once when Bailey tried to steer him into complimenting me and he was obviously and awkwardly trying to come up with something to say I said, "Nah, it's ok. It's pretty clear he's not attracted to me."

Then I got the pity comment from one of the other guys, "No, it's just that he's so attracted to you that he can't even talk about it."

*sigh*

I'd like to say that I was unfazed.

I'd like to say that I haven't thought about it, since.

But the truth of the matter is I'm writing a blog about it. The truth of the matter is that it totally stung.

It probably makes me unenlightened, but a man's opinion of my looks matters to me.

Even when I know it shouldn't. Even when I barely know him. Even when I'm not attracted to him. 

I try to pretend like it doesn't get to me, because I know that so much of beauty is based on your self-confidence, but it's all an affectation.

I look at pictures of myself and wish that I could lose weight.... and wish that I didn't hate my profile... and wish that I was taller and less sturdily built.

And I know that almost every girl does the same thing.

I hate beauty sometimes.

Cause the truth is I actually think I have a lot of really good qualities going for me. But I forget all about them in a heartbeat, because one guy didn't drunkenly hit on me and it reminded me of how I'm never the girl who gets hit on.

And I've heard all the "It get's old" and "It's not all it's cracked up to be" lines before. And I totally believe it. I'm a pretty smart chick, I can easily see how it would get old/annoying.

Doesn't mean the opposite's not true, too.

And I guess that's the last reason why I hate it. Because I am smart and I know I should be above/beyond/past all that kind of shallow/ petty vapid-ness. Yet here I sit, wishing some drunk dude thought I was hot.

I'd say I should give up trying to be beautiful but I don't have the guts. I barely have the courage to wear my glasses in public.