The first time I heard the lyrics to Ani Difranco's "I Am Not A Pretty Girl", I remember thinking to myself, damn, that's me. It in no way contributes to my history of having a low self esteem. It in fact, has the very opposite affect.
If you have never heard it, and have even a smidgen of feminist pride/stubbornness in your body, I highly recommend downloading it from iTunes ASAP. If you don't want to buy it, at least take the time to read the lyrics here:http://www.metrolyrics.com/not-a-pretty-girl-lyrics-ani-difranco.html
I have often struggled with being the odd girl in the room. However in being so, I have always blended in the background, merely invisible. I actually prefer this. It makes me feel as though I'm a character in a Harry Potter book, wearing my invisibility cloak so as to be able to meander and observe my surroundings without the bother of someone else stopping to notice me.
My husband would disagree that I harbor the trait of being invisible, but he's biased so his opinion doesn't count.
I'm a jeans and t-shirt kind of girl. Throw me a pair of converse over heels any day. I never learned how to really apply make-up, so when I do actually wear it, I struggle with whether or not I'm doing it correctly. I don't know my true bra size...in fact, I often go without one, just because I can.
Growing up, and even now, I was much more comfortable around boys than girls because boys never challenged me in a way that hurt my self esteem; until I got older and one after another, they stood in line to break my heart over and over again. This being said, their genetic make-up is still much less cruel than that of a teenage girls'.
When boys did start taking notice, I was oblivious to the fact. Once it was brought to my attention, I would become obsessed with said boy just because he took the time out of his day to tell someone else he thought I was pretty.
Obsession apparently draws the boys away instead of towards you.
Suddenly, I felt as though I couldn't fit in anywhere, even with the friends I grew up with. I took every comment to heart, only hearing the negatives, "you're ugly, you're chubby, you're immature....you're too sensitive". I heard it all....and I still hear their words on days that I'm struggling with my overall outward appearance.
The truth is, I am not a pretty girl. "That is not what I do". And no matter how much words said have hurt my feelings, they haven't been able to stop me from being who I am; dressing how I want and simply blending into the crowd. I have never wanted to be rescued or saved. Every girl has moments when they want their prince charming to stand with a boom box outside of her window and call out her name. I'm not denying the fact that I too fantasized of this at one time.
The fact is that I'm too stubborn to accept such hospitality.
"I am not a kitten, stuck up in a tree somewhere."
Over the years, one might say I became slightly jaded when a boy actually noticed me. I chalked it up to him somehow having some secret agenda, wanting to break me and my battered heart in any moment of weakness. I was never able to accept the concept that instead of me always breaking my neck to try to help a guy to "become the very best person he could be", that he might indeed be trying to do the same thing for me.
But it was never about me. It was always about them and how they were feeling. I spent so much of my time trying to fix everything that was wrong that I didn't even realize until almost too late that I was slightly broken myself. I became so frustrated in my lack of results in trying to help. No one ever listened to what I had to say because I was honest with them and said what needed to be said.
"I am not an angry girl. But it seems, I've got everyone fooled. Every time they find something that's hard to hear, they chalk it up to my anger and never to their own fear."
It was no one's fault but my own.
In all honesty, before Andrew, I never felt the balance of two people simply being there for one another no matter how they are feeling. Before Andrew, I was always the "strong one", having to hold both myself and the other person up during the hard times. I didn't realize that a relationship should be based on equality and each person being there for the other in every time of need, even if that meant giving up some of yourself to make ends meet.
I gave up so much of myself that I lost my identity.
I lost me.
The truth of the matter is I always strayed towards the slightly "broken" individuals, wanting so desperately to change them for the better; craving that sense of accomplishment in helping someone through a rough time and making a difference.
I never thought twice that I was the one looking for "damsels in distress" so to speak.
It was exhausting.
And suddenly, I did want to be the prettiest girl in the room, just once. It just seemed easier.
But that's not who I am. I'm the girl who shows up to work with no make-up and wet hair thrown up in a bun. I feel awkward when I dress up; almost like I'm at a costume party and no one else decided to participate. I have my own sense of style that is unique and I'm happy with that.
But I'd be lying if I said I didn't have moments when I wish I were more like everyone else or even like the girl who just stands out from the rest or turns a head or two when she walks by.
In the long run, I prefer to be the outsider. That's who I am and I can't deny this fact. At least now, I am able to find some comfort in being the person I have become and strive to be, not trying to pretend to be someone or something I'm not. I think we all possess the ability to save our own skins. Sure, we might have some help along the way, but it's ourselves that decide to stay a certain way because we want to or to change because we feel we have to.
I never wanted to be saved. I never felt the need to be saved even in my darkest times.
I taught myself a lesson in that most of us feel this way. As much as I wanted or felt the need to help any given individual, the truth is, if he didn't want to be helped in the first place, I was really just wasting my time. I don't necessarily see this as a defeat, though at times it does feel that way. I guess it's a good thing that I realized before it was too late that should the situation(s) have been reversed, none of these people that I tried to "save" would have done the same for me. In knowing that, it's much easier to let go and to accept that I was never meant to save them anyway.
"And what if there are no damsels in distress. What if I knew that and I called your bluff. Don't you think every kitten figures out how to get down, whether or not you ever show up?"
-Ani Difranco
If you have never heard it, and have even a smidgen of feminist pride/stubbornness in your body, I highly recommend downloading it from iTunes ASAP. If you don't want to buy it, at least take the time to read the lyrics here:http://www.metrolyrics.com/not-a-pretty-girl-lyrics-ani-difranco.html
I have often struggled with being the odd girl in the room. However in being so, I have always blended in the background, merely invisible. I actually prefer this. It makes me feel as though I'm a character in a Harry Potter book, wearing my invisibility cloak so as to be able to meander and observe my surroundings without the bother of someone else stopping to notice me.
My husband would disagree that I harbor the trait of being invisible, but he's biased so his opinion doesn't count.
I'm a jeans and t-shirt kind of girl. Throw me a pair of converse over heels any day. I never learned how to really apply make-up, so when I do actually wear it, I struggle with whether or not I'm doing it correctly. I don't know my true bra size...in fact, I often go without one, just because I can.
Growing up, and even now, I was much more comfortable around boys than girls because boys never challenged me in a way that hurt my self esteem; until I got older and one after another, they stood in line to break my heart over and over again. This being said, their genetic make-up is still much less cruel than that of a teenage girls'.
When boys did start taking notice, I was oblivious to the fact. Once it was brought to my attention, I would become obsessed with said boy just because he took the time out of his day to tell someone else he thought I was pretty.
Obsession apparently draws the boys away instead of towards you.
Suddenly, I felt as though I couldn't fit in anywhere, even with the friends I grew up with. I took every comment to heart, only hearing the negatives, "you're ugly, you're chubby, you're immature....you're too sensitive". I heard it all....and I still hear their words on days that I'm struggling with my overall outward appearance.
The truth is, I am not a pretty girl. "That is not what I do". And no matter how much words said have hurt my feelings, they haven't been able to stop me from being who I am; dressing how I want and simply blending into the crowd. I have never wanted to be rescued or saved. Every girl has moments when they want their prince charming to stand with a boom box outside of her window and call out her name. I'm not denying the fact that I too fantasized of this at one time.
The fact is that I'm too stubborn to accept such hospitality.
"I am not a kitten, stuck up in a tree somewhere."
Over the years, one might say I became slightly jaded when a boy actually noticed me. I chalked it up to him somehow having some secret agenda, wanting to break me and my battered heart in any moment of weakness. I was never able to accept the concept that instead of me always breaking my neck to try to help a guy to "become the very best person he could be", that he might indeed be trying to do the same thing for me.
But it was never about me. It was always about them and how they were feeling. I spent so much of my time trying to fix everything that was wrong that I didn't even realize until almost too late that I was slightly broken myself. I became so frustrated in my lack of results in trying to help. No one ever listened to what I had to say because I was honest with them and said what needed to be said.
"I am not an angry girl. But it seems, I've got everyone fooled. Every time they find something that's hard to hear, they chalk it up to my anger and never to their own fear."
It was no one's fault but my own.
In all honesty, before Andrew, I never felt the balance of two people simply being there for one another no matter how they are feeling. Before Andrew, I was always the "strong one", having to hold both myself and the other person up during the hard times. I didn't realize that a relationship should be based on equality and each person being there for the other in every time of need, even if that meant giving up some of yourself to make ends meet.
I gave up so much of myself that I lost my identity.
I lost me.
The truth of the matter is I always strayed towards the slightly "broken" individuals, wanting so desperately to change them for the better; craving that sense of accomplishment in helping someone through a rough time and making a difference.
I never thought twice that I was the one looking for "damsels in distress" so to speak.
It was exhausting.
And suddenly, I did want to be the prettiest girl in the room, just once. It just seemed easier.
But that's not who I am. I'm the girl who shows up to work with no make-up and wet hair thrown up in a bun. I feel awkward when I dress up; almost like I'm at a costume party and no one else decided to participate. I have my own sense of style that is unique and I'm happy with that.
But I'd be lying if I said I didn't have moments when I wish I were more like everyone else or even like the girl who just stands out from the rest or turns a head or two when she walks by.
In the long run, I prefer to be the outsider. That's who I am and I can't deny this fact. At least now, I am able to find some comfort in being the person I have become and strive to be, not trying to pretend to be someone or something I'm not. I think we all possess the ability to save our own skins. Sure, we might have some help along the way, but it's ourselves that decide to stay a certain way because we want to or to change because we feel we have to.
I never wanted to be saved. I never felt the need to be saved even in my darkest times.
I taught myself a lesson in that most of us feel this way. As much as I wanted or felt the need to help any given individual, the truth is, if he didn't want to be helped in the first place, I was really just wasting my time. I don't necessarily see this as a defeat, though at times it does feel that way. I guess it's a good thing that I realized before it was too late that should the situation(s) have been reversed, none of these people that I tried to "save" would have done the same for me. In knowing that, it's much easier to let go and to accept that I was never meant to save them anyway.
"And what if there are no damsels in distress. What if I knew that and I called your bluff. Don't you think every kitten figures out how to get down, whether or not you ever show up?"
-Ani Difranco
