Such A Difference Between Who I Am And Who You See

So here it is: another moment of emotional vulnerability. This is one in which I make a shocking admission about myself (okay, not really, for those who know me). I have never been overly confident in myself. When I was a kid, I got beaten up a lot, and constantly felt at fault for things. I learned to accept blame automatically, even if it wasn’t mine, or risk being physically punished. I’ve been through 4 Dads in my life, one of whom was my actual Father, and the others I was raised to treat as a Father. One by one, they always left (except the third one, he just liked children too much, if you know what I mean). As a young child, it was never explained to me why I was never good enough to stay for. I grew up being conditioned to hold distrust in men. Nobody was ever around to pay me any attention, to tell me I was pretty. Growing up, the best my Dad could do was call me "thunder thighs" and joke about how I was in the "Itty Bitty Titty Club." I had a lot to feel inadequate about. I was (at the time) 6’2", 25 pounds overweight and extremely curvy. The pretty popular girls all had straight hair in trendy haircuts (mine was long, and curled in frizzy, unmanageable ringlets), were skinny as a stick, with no hips and tiny bums. I didn’t have any of that. I’d hit puberty at 10. By the time I was 16, I’d had periods and breasts for 6 years, and hips for 5 years. I never felt bad about my breasts. I always felt I had the perfect pair. I never had breast envy. Why would I? At 11, adult men were confusing me for 18. I felt completely conspicuous, and didn’t know how to feel about standing out and commanding attention. I felt like everyone was staring at me, ridiculing me because I was not also short, skinny, straight-haired and hipless. When I found someone I thought had accepted me as I was, and made me feel like I lived up to an ideal, it didn’t last. After several years together, we both gained an enormous amount of weight. I was very heavy, and had very large D-cup breasts. When the weight fell off, so did the breasts. In fact, they seemed even smaller afterwards than they were before. Despite how unhappy that made me, the rest of me looked fantastic. He ended up falling in love with an underage girl, who was short, skinny, straight-haired and hipless. He then also tossed me out of my life onto my ass with nothing but my pathetic boxes and my broken pride. For the first time in my life, I’d felt good about myself for a change. I felt good about being someone he couldn’t bear to love. So I hated myself.

Over the years, many, many of my male friends have (and still do) express their attraction to me, and affection for me, but none of them have ever pursued it, except the few that I was never interested in that way. Nobody I was ever attracted to was attracted back (except my ex) serious enough to want to be with me. I was fun to look at, that’s all. And in the end, few of my male friends have maintained our friendships over the years. The few that have are either taken or gay, or both. After my ex, and the weight loss, certain parts of my body felt unflattering, and left me dissatisfied. I considered cosmetic surgery, probably something I can’t or simply shouldn’t ever do. I’m not an ideal. Not by any means. There are so many things wrong with me. I’m a fuckin’ trainwreck, and a lot of the time, I’ve felt like people have showered me with false flattery and praise. Where was it my whole life when I needed to believe it? Why is it here now, only because I don’t? I worry that it’s too little, too late.

I know that I’m unable to provide the ideal. That’s… stupidly upsetting. I wish I could ignore it, or change it. I can’t do either. I’m the odd woman out, again, as I have been my whole life. I’m the one that’s different. I don’t mean that I’m the one who was chosen, I just know that if you lined up the other 8 (and I choose to add the bonus 9th) up against the wall, I’d stand out, visibly. I’m not sure that’s a good thing. I’m almost completely sure that makes me sad, because I can never be everything. In some ways, I will leave someone wanting for more. And I wonder then, why would anyone settle? I worry now, that the outside world is a daily, constant billboard of what I lack. But I know at the end of the day, all you’ll say is that I’m stupid.


~ by Kд§$ị (ИovΔ) on 03/04/2009.

2 Responses to “Such A Difference Between Who I Am And Who You See”

  1. I can’t speak for anyone else, but I want you to know, that any way you stand out is a good thing. You may not feel it, you may feel that you have too many faults for the good to shine through, but it’s not true. Not in the slightest. I may not be the person you need to hear this from, but you are one of the most intelligent, witty, hilarious, beautiful people I know. You are not lacking, if anyone tells you otherwise, they aren’t worth your time. I myself was never one of the skinny no-hipped "pretty" girls. Aside from height, what you said about hitting puberty at 10, sounds very similar to me during those years. There are a lot of times now that I feel like the clumsy ogre in the room compared to the little dainty girls around. There are other times when I really do love myself, those are less often than they should be. You have overcome a lot, and I greatly admire you for that. I don’t know if I’ve told you that. If I haven’t, I’m saying it now. This may be cliche or sound, I don’t know, cheesy for lack of a better word, but you are one of my heroes. I don’t mean that you’re some distant person I put on a pedesal, but that I look at you and see an amazing person that’s changed my life. I love you! Lauren

  2. *cry* *hug* *cry* I love you too!

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