I am an only child of divorced parents. I was raised by my mom, and she believed the
sun rose and fell at my feet. She told
me I was smart and special and could do anything I wanted. One of the most difficult parts of life after
college was realizing that a lot of what she’d told me only contained a sliver
of the truth—I would not get any job I applied for, I wasn’t necessarily meant
for great things. Like most people, I am
destined to live a mostly average life.
The mom-lie she told me that is only really sinking in
lately is the lie about my appearance. If
the rest of the world saw me the way my mom does, I would not be single at
31. My mom believes I am beautiful. When I’m having a conversation with her about
cleaning my apartment, she’ll interrupt me to tell me how pretty my hair is
even though it’s frizzy and up in a ponytail.
When we go out to restaurants, she believes that every man is turning
his head to look at me. And when I have
talked with her about men I’ve been interested in who wanted nothing to do with
me romantically, she never believes it has anything to do with my extra fat
cells or big nose or squinty eyes.
I’ve never believed I am hot. I’ve always been humbled by the beauty of my
friends and the attention they received from the opposite sex. Growing up, it let me know, at the very
least, that I was not destined to be a model or to date the hot guys. And this was good. Because I didn’t garner male attention, I focused
on my studies, learned how to be a great friend, and cultivated my mind, a rich
inner life, a fierce independence and sense of humor. I think I’ve turned into a pretty awesome
person to know, if I may say so myself.
Even though I never believed I was hot, I never thought I
was ugly. At least not until
recently. After many years of not really
hanging out with single women at all, or at least not with single women in a
larger group of people, I made a single lady friend. This friend is tall and skinny and tan and
blonde—very pretty. People are always
telling her how pretty she is, too. They
talk about fixing her up with their single friends. They wonder aloud how it is possible that she
is still single. Men clearly are giving
her the eye. As for me? No one makes mention of their single male
friends to me or comments on my appearance at all. I might as well be invisible except for a few
silly comments I throw into a conversation here and there.
It’s started to make me wonder just how unattractive I
actually am. I think because of my level
of security with my personality and intelligence I have body dysmorphia, only
instead of believing I’m much fatter than I am, I think I’m thinner. Maybe my hair is scragglier than I
imagine. Maybe I have more than just the
2nd chin I see in the mirror.
Perhaps people can barely see my eyeballs at all for how narrow they
are. Is it possible that my lips are
actually so thin that I just look like some old lady without her teeth in every
time I talk?
I’ve always wanted to find a man who appreciates me for
who I am inside, but is that even possible without a pretty package to lure him
in? I don’t have any answers, only
dateless nights. All I can do is tell
myself my own lies and hold out hope that I can find a man who sees me through
the eyes of my mom.
