i feel pretty

i never learned how to be pretty.

i'm not fishing for compliments on my physical features, simply commenting on the fact that i was not instructed in ways of beautification as a young girl -- to this day i don't really know how to style my hair, apply make-up, or construct a stylish outfit. i have a vague sense of what looks good and what doesn't, but no solid foundation in beauty, cosmetics, or fashion.

why is this a problem? part of being pretty or beautiful -- and mind you I am speaking of the "only skin-deep" variety -- is the confidence that comes with it. a woman is judged by her appearance, and so feeling good about it engenders a certain confidence. (i'm not saying that men aren't also judged and thus don't also benefit from looking good, but i think either more emphasis is placed on a woman's appearance, or it is more difficult to attain a satisfactory level of beauty as a woman. this is a whole other can of worms i don't intend to delve into...)

my upbringing was imbued with self-doubt and constant questioning of whether i looked OK or not. feeling the critique of my peers like the sun beating down on the back of my neck. hearing the whispers (imaginary or otherwise) like the wind slipping through the trees. fretting over my hair and its styling or lack thereof; stressing over make-up, its selection, purchase, application, and reapplication; agonizing over my clothes, how much designer labels cost (for as much as i would have liked to splurge, the economy of generic brands and sales resonated soundly in my midwestern being), and whether my attempt at fashion would be ridiculed. no, instead of learning to be confident through my outward looks, i learned to critique, doubt, and second-guess my appearance. this spilled over from hair, face, make-up, clothes to body, character, worth, self...

thankfully, today i've found my niche: the athletic academic. not one but two arenas in which "pretty" women are scarce and more emphasis is placed on knowledge and performance. it is the girl with too much mascara that is looked upon with slight bemusement, rather than the girl who thinks her ironman watch is a fashion accessory. the girl who published in Science is regarded with awe, and the one with the designer hand bag is questioned for squandering her paltry stipend. it is there that i am comfortable. it is here that beauty -- and hence the confidence that accompanies it -- is defined more deeply than just the skin and any any products we apply to it.