The title of my post came from the book Sex and the City, (which besides for this epic line, was a complete waste of my time.) I think it sufficiently describes why I now have a semi-interesting blog that I write.
No, I do not believe I come from the Ugly Patch, in fact, I clean up alright, but I am not a front-runner in the Beauty Olympics either. Being one of only 4 female cousins in my family, I was the one who would never have made it passed the first round of a beauty pageant, and the one who would never have been voted prom queen. I must be satisfied with being the one with the biggest busooms.
In high school, having been the best friend of the Pretty Girl, I focused my attentions on sharpening my piano playing abilities, since there was no way I could keep up with her in the beauty department. My mad music skillz afforded me enough attention to feed my inner histrionic personality monster. Much of my alone time was spent fantasizing about being the belle of the ball, which I think enhanced my imagination enough to turn me into the prolific writer that I am today. (That was a joke.)
I have succumbed to the fact that there are just some things I cannot change about myself (like my face), and I have given up hoping that my non-magical mirror will tell me, “Sparkle, you are the fairest of them all.” Instead, I am happy to report that my mirror no longer screams, “Look away! It hurts my eyes!” I was quite glad to realize that (in my own opinion) I am one of those people who gets better looking with age. (like Mariska Hargitay) And one thing I’ve learned- if an individual PRETENDS that she is beautifically superior, she can make other people believe it too. Luckily, I have my writing to keep their interest when they find out the truth….