Self Loathing BS

I have always been the “ugly friend” you know the friend that the pretty girls have. My friends in high school where nominated for home coming queen and prom queen and I was always the quirky kid with the blue hair that stood behind them. I would pine to be them some days because I hated who I was. I was the skater boy’s girlfriend, the druggies dealer, and the smart kid that let people copy off of her. I was stronger than most boys because of the farm and I was terribly unpopular in the shadows of my friends. I was spit on, pushed, and just made fun of constantly. I felt like Drew Barrymore in that “First Kiss” movie, even though it came out after I graduated high school. Let’s just say my high school career wasn’t fun. All my friends didn’t get it, why I just wanted to be them just once. Because they were never in my shoes. They never worked and grew up on a farm, were made fun of since they were 5 years old on the first day of school. They all lived in the village and new the kids that we went to high school with. They all played with each other on the weekends and I ended up being the new kid from the catholic to public school in the 7th grade. It carved my whole future.

I have felt like the outsider my whole life since then. In my sorority they called me the “pretty one” a few times and I didn’t get it. I still don’t. I look at all these women I work with in the modeling field and I wish that someday I may get to be like them, but my friends tell me I already am. It’s the whole issue of body image and how on e seems them self. I surely have the crappiest self image of anyone I know. I can pick out my flaws and my disappointments. I still don’t feel like I fit in and I’d rather be with my book in the corner than have to deal with people most days. It’s just who I am and even though I have come a few miles since high school to where I am now, as to how I see myself. I still have miles to go before I will ever realize that I’m OK, that I fit in, that I want to hug people….cause really I don’t I’m not a hugger and people think I’m rude but I just would rather not. Again that goes back to the way I was brought up, but that’s another story for another time. And trust me I have plenty sappy high school stories of the kid that got beat up, made fun of, and used and pushed around. But those aren’t for now and hopefully will never come out.

Right now as I finish this “novel” on self loathing and pity I take a few steps forward that I do look cool in my blazer & skull t and after tonight with a few beers a couple smokes and a Pizza Land pizza with my high school friends, I just may be the “pretty one” for once.

<3 Mrs D.

PS This all came out because I've been in a crappy depressed funk that I'm blaming on PMS and usually it's worse & sometimes it's not as bad but this time I took it out on my modeling and self image. So that explains the blabber above.