day 368

I’m not pretty.

People who love me say I am, but that’s only because they love me. I’m really not.

Never have been.

When I was a kid and things like that didn’t matter to most, they did to me. My dad preferred blondes. The closest I ever came to blonde was lemon-juiced lighter brunette. He loved me in his way, but we both knew he didn’t ever really think I was pretty.

Later, when I really, really would have done anything to be pretty, I was fat. It was my own fault, having spent the summer between 11 and 12 stuffing the pain I didn’t have words for with potato chips. And if I’d known I’d want so desperately to be pretty at the end of that summer, I’d’ve found some other way to deal with the pain. But I didn’t, and I ate, and I was fat.

In high school, I was diagnosed with a genetic heart disorder, and worse yet, I was a brain. Freshman year was all honors and Latin as my elective – yeah, that kind of brain. And I was still fat. Not the cute, pleasantly plump fat. No, no. The so-fat-I-couldn’t-fit-in-the-desk fat. The started-panting-after-a-single-case-of-stairs fat. The most unpretty, my-grandmother-would-compliment-my-strong-shoulders-because-that-was-all-that-wasn’t-fat fat girl in Latin class.

And then…. I found the Internet and roleplay. Before webcams and digital cameras. It was the most pretty, wrong of paradise, and I didn’t care. My avatar was gorgeous. My brain with that form kicked ass, and that’s all anyone had to see or know.

I didn’t have to worry about being safe; I was pretty. A smile opened doors, and a wink got me the world. I didn’t have to try, didn’t have to think. All I had do to was log in, find a group, and poof! Insta-oblivion.

Years disappeared, and I have very little to show for them. College was less fun than my RP, so it slipped away easily. Friends who weren’t online were annoying. I told myself I didn’t care, that it was their fault for not understanding.

I’m older now, and have white hair to compliment my white, less-bloated skin.

I ran into a former RP acquaintance today. He offered the same game in a different place. And although the faces had changed, it all felt very much the same, stilted, like a tilted mirror.

Tomorrow, I’m supposed to go sign up for classes at the college where it all started. And parts of me are terrified. I’ll have to face what I was, and what I am and what I could have been if I’d been someone else. Or just accepted that being pretty wasn’t worth the price.

Tonight, I accept that I am not pretty. Tomorrow, I’ll aim for strong.