I fell for the great American Dream, female version, hook, line, and sinker.

I, as many young women do, honest to god believed that once I just "lost a few pounds", somehow I would suddenly be a New You. I would have Ken-doll men chasing my thin legs down with bouquets of flowers on the street, I would become rich and famous and glamorous and lose my freckles and become blonde and five foot ten. I would wear cool quasi-intellectual glasses and a man's oxford shirt in a sunny New York flat and sip coffee and say Mmmm and fold my paper neatly and He would come up behind me and look at me with an adoring gaze. I would swing sexily into my red coupe, and the wind would blow through my hair as I drove into some great big city, stepping off the elevator and striding (with a feminine but authoritative step) into my office where everyone would be impresed with my every feminine but authoritative word. Yes, indeed, as soon as I left my hometown and lost a few pounds. --Wasted


It is so hard to be a woman.

There is this girl who is in my chemistry class with me. She is perfect. Perfect in the "Americanized culture that is shoved down your throat since birth" type perfect. Full, beautiful long blonde hair. Pretty face, thin, toned body with curves in all the right places, big boobs. Great tan. Manicured nails (fingers AND toes) designer everything...always in workout stuff, so I know she works out a lot. (and her body is also an indication of that) and she utterly fascinates me.


I guess I still have it in my head that her life MUST be so much more glamorous than mine... becuase she has literally made it a full time job of hers to physically groom, and primp, and perfect herself.

I mean...I know what that kind of upkeep is like! I've done it before. (it's exhausting. Not to mention unfulfilling.)
I noticed today that she had a HUGE engagement ring on. So I asked her about it, and she smiled and said, yes, that her fiance of three years asked her. I asked what he did for a living, and she said he was a pharmicist. (oh that explains it.)


I could have been "part of that life." I know I'm pretty. Not PERFECT pretty...it would take a lot of "work" to get myself to that "level." A boob job. Strict diet/excercise regime, hair extensions, tanning, nails, labels. I have the potential to be like her.


Would I be happier? No. I wouldn't be. I know that now...sometimes my mind tries to trick me and make me think otherwise.
But I'm me...a girl who's thighs jiggle, and curls go flat after walking around campus for too long (damn humidity!), and who eats peanut butter straight from the jar, and has goals and is actively working towards them, and who is independent, who has too much anxiety, who has thoughts she's afraid to share with others because I'm secretly afraid I'm crazy, who loves too hard, and smiles a lot, and sings loudly in the shower, and works a job where I'm perpetually covered in spit up/and/or/ poop (haha I love those babies though) and goes weeks without shaving my legs because my boyfriend doesn't care and I'm lazy.

I guess I'm just too busy to be "perfect."
Sorry girl in my chemistry class, no time in my schedule to fit in 4+ hours a day into my physical looks... you have fun with that.

However, I understand the appeal of it all. Today I was talking to B about it, and she said that if she had the opportunity, she would totally have a sugar daddy and be "part of that world." The girl we were also talking with, agreed.

It made me so sad. Because I understand the place she's in emotionally. It's hard to hate yourself THAT much...to think your possible only value to offer anyone is your looks (which aren't even your real looks once you're done being "transformed") it's an illusion. Smoke and mirrors...and that kind of magic trick is exhausting to maintain. They think it is the "easier" life.

*sigh* how do you battle an entire culture? I am but one, girl.
Save myself! I wish I could save them all...