Ugly Girl
I’m an ugly girl.
Now, when I say this, well-meaning people rush to tell me “Oh no that’s not true! You’re beautiful! Beauty is in the eyes fo the beholder!” And many other soothing things to make be feel beautiful again. And I know they mean well.
But the truth is, by the standards of our culture, I am ugly, not grossly ugly, but certainly remarkably unattractive. I weigh more than many people. My skin has large pores. I am over 30. I do not wear makeup or clothing that accentuates my breasts.
In a few places, I have pictures of myself posted where other people can see them, and a few videos where I can be seen on youtube. They are not prominently placed and thus are not easy to find. But when people do come across them, and have the capability to do so, it is not unusual for them to make some comment about how much they hate my appearance. Never does anyone come along and remark that I am attractive.
I am an ugly girl. It reminds me of the Jewel song:
“She’s an ugly girl,
Does that make you want to hurt her?
She’s an ugly girl,
Do you want to kick in her face?
She’s an ugly girl,
She doesn’t pose a threat,
She’s an ugly girl,
Does that make you feel safe?”
I’m an ugly girl. I’ve always been ugly, really. My own mother thought I was ugly even when I was young and skinny. To her, beauty was measured by one’s ability to look like a Barbie doll. I had dark, long, frequently tangled hair and hazel eyes. I had freckles instead of creamy, pale skin, and my knees were usually scabbed from falling down while playing. My nails were always broken and dirty.
I looked nothing like a Barbie doll. I was ugly.
I’m not looking for reassurances here on how true beauty comes from within or how large women can be beautiful or how our culture’s beauty standards are skewed. I know all of this.
What I’m getting at, and forgive me if this comes across slowly, because it’s something I’m only coming to within myself, is that IT SHOULDN’T MATTER. And more and more, it doesn’t matter to me. I mean, it still is hurtful when people make nasty comments about my weight or age or hair. It hurts to be dismissed. It hurts to be insulted.
But it doesn’t hurt as much as it used to. I’m coming to a sort of acceptance about my ugliness.
Oddly enough, and you may laugh, but it seems to be the online gaming world that helps me with this.
Here are a large group of people who mostly don’t ever get to see even a picture of what I look like. But – they don’t care. They see my behavior. They see my actions (even if they are in-game actions). In a way, they see me more truly than they would if they just met me at a party and immediately made assumptions about me based on my physical appearance.
The other part of my learning not to care about this comes from increased exposure to feminists. Men aren’t judged in the same way that women are. An ugly guy can still be perceived to have talents and acheivements that make up for it, but women are supposed to look attractive even if they have ten children, climbed Mt. Everest on their summer vacation, or just won the Nobel prize.
Why should my appearance even matter? Yes, I am ugly – why should it matter? Why should it invalidate my opinions, be used to dismiss me as a friend or a gaming buddy, be used as a weapon against me whenever someone becomes angry with me or some random stranger sees my picture and decides he wants to use me as a toilet to dump his emotional shit into? Why should I be required to be ornamental? Why is my refusal to try to be an ornament met with such strident disapproval from complete strangers? What gives them the right?
I’m an ugly girl, so what? Why does this bother you so fucking much? Why do you think this gives you a right to talk down to me, to tell me what you think I should be eating or how I spend my spare time, what I should wear to “flatter my appearance”, how I should apply my makeup or what colors I should wear to help “slenderize” myself, to dismiss me, to tell me my opinions don’t count because you don’t like the way I look?
I am not an ornament you hang on your wall. It shouldn’t matter to you if I’m ugly unless I am actively trying to drag you into my bed and you just don’t find me attractive in that way. IT SHOULDN’T MATTER.
Dismissing me, insulting me, and encouraging people to bully me over the internet because you found out I bear little resemblance to a Barbie doll says more about you than it ever can about me.
