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This is what I know:
I am smart, kind, funny, good at my job
I am not beautiful, sexy, and I am not That girl.

I never have been, in 42 years. So to go along with thinking I am is to invite disappointment, misery and heartbreak. Having men tell me these things and be interested in me is not Me, it is not who I am. For whatever reason, this is an anomaly, and I would be foolish and delusional to think it has some substance. The longer I play into this delusion the worse it will be in the end.

The loud boom you might have just heard was the sound of me falling back to earth this week. Girls like me were never meant to fly. And thinking we can or should leads only to an inevitable collision with gravity.

Remember the Stephen King novel, Carrie and the movie of the same name starring Sissy Spacek? Carrie was an awkward, shy, homely teenage misfit, who at the same time envied and avoided the Beautiful People at her high school. Carrie knew she was not That girl, but part of her longed to be. The Beautiful People thought up a little joke to play on Carrie. They let her believe she could be That girl. They showered her with false praise, encouraged her to go beyond her comfort zone, to believe she could be like them…beautiful, desired, accepted. The Beautiful People convinced Carrie that she—homely, awkward misfit—could be Prom Queen! Carrie could only dream of such things. But they convinced her, and she stuck her neck out. She went to Prom feeling beautiful, evolved, accepted, happy! And when she stood on the stage accepting her crown as Prom Queen, she thought she was one of them. But the Beautiful People were out to teach Carrie a lesson. About how you should never try to reach above your lot in life. You are who you are. So they fixed the contest, so that Carrie would be Prom Queen, so that she would believe all they said about her. And then, as she stood there, they dumped a bucket of pig’s blood all over her and started to laugh. They laughed at the sight of her, and they laughed at the absurdity of someone like Carrie believing she could be That girl. They got her good.

And I imagine how Carrie, standing there with her curled hair, evening gown and dripping in pig’s blood would have described her emotional state to a reporter on the scene, much like an athlete does immediately after winning or losing the gold medal:

“Carrie, this was probably the biggest moment in your life so far, something you have looked forward to, dreamed of, and it didn’t turn out how you had imagined. What are you feeling right now, Carrie?”

“Well Bob, it’s really a disappointing outcome, I really thought I could do it and I trained really hard for tonight. I would say I am disappointed, embarrassed, hurt, humiliated, sad, and I feel rejected. And I am also really angry, not so much at what happened here tonight, but at myself for thinking I was ready for this level of competition. I think I knew it wasn’t right, but I kept listening to the people around me and they were all so positive. I think I have learned my lesson, Bob, and I am not going to compete at this level again.”

“So, are you saying you’re considering retirement, Carrie?”

“Well, Bob, it’s something I think I need to seriously consider given the outcome today.”

“Thanks Carrie. Back to you in the studio Jim….”

I am Carrie. I am the developmentally challenged little boy whose baseball team lets him think he hit a home run, cheers him around the bases as they purposely fumble the ball and walk around the infield. When he crosses home plate, they all cheer wildly and congratulate him, and he beams with pride thinking he has just done something great. Has he? No, they just let him think that. In reality he is a simple fool who will never be like the rest of them, and whose self-pride is based on a lie.

The West is preoccupied with “more, better, best”. We are not supposed to be happy with our lot in life. We are supposed to demand the best; be the happiest; be all that you can be! The truth is, only the beautiful get to be beautiful, only the happy get to be happy. The rest of us have to be content with our lot in life, with whatever struggle we are given. To demand more is selfishness, and arrogance.

Girls like me and Carrie were never meant to fly....

I've heard this before somewhere....

Somebody's Song

This is what I vow;
He shall have my heart to keep,
Sweetly will we stir and sleep,
All the years, as now.
Swift the measured sands may run;
Love like this is never done;
He and I are welded one:
This is what I vow.

This is what I pray:
Keep him by me tenderly;
Keep him sweet in pride of me,
Ever and a day;
Keep me from the old distress;
Let me, for our happiness,
Be the one to love the less:
This is what I pray.

This is what I know:
Lovers' oaths are thin as rain;
Love's a harbinger of pain –
Would it were not so!
Ever is my heart a-thirst,
Ever is my love accurst;
He is neither last nor first:
This is what I know.

---Dorothy Parker


Maybe there's a God above
All I ever learned from Love
Is how to shoot at someone who outdrew you
It's not a cry you can hear at night
It's not somebody who's seen the light
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah

---Leonard Cohen, Hallelujah


At 17 (42)

I learned the truth at seventeen
That love was meant for beauty queens
And high school girls with clear skinned smiles
Who married young and then retired
The valentines I never knew
The Friday night charades of youth
Were spent on one more beautiful
At seventeen I learned the truth

To those of us who knew the pain
Of valentines that never came
And those whose names were never called
When choosing sides for basketball
It was long ago and far away
The world was younger than today
And dreams were all they gave for free
To ugly duckling girls like me

---Janis Ian

Who's That girl?

You know That girl. The one who exudes sex appeal, who is beautiful, makes men weak in the knees, unable to speak coherently? The one who carries herself as a beautiful woman does, with confidence, optimism, a sense of calm and also of impending danger. She knows it in her soul, that she is beautiful, that she has a power over men. She enjoys it, it nurtures her being, it causes her to smile and hold her head high, to smile at strangers and wear her best clothes and makeup even on a quick trip to the market. She is not necessarily vain; no, she may be quite humble, and when questioned directly about her beauty or sex appeal she may deny its presence, say she is plain, just like everyone else, nothing special. But her deportment and radiance belie her modesty. These are the women for whom men write songs and poetry; for whom they do silly sappy things that they will not admit to in front of their brethren. Bring chicken soup when she is sick. Rub her back when she has cramps. Send emails and text messages with little happy faces blowing kisses. You know these women. You know the effect they have on men.

I have never been That girl. Never. My beauty has always been in my personality…my brains, my abilities, my friendship. Those are the qualities that attract my friends, that bring about compliments, that form the scaffold of my identity. But sex appeal, physical beauty, these are not things I am familiar with. I know them well, my friends are Those girls. I have seen the effect first hand, have been there to act as translator, chaperone, buffer, decoy, excuse. To gently sweep up the bits of men left in their wakes, to assure them, listen sympathetically and set them on their way. I am the girl men want as their best friend, confidante, activity partner. Occasionally even as a lover. But they are clear, I am not That girl. They deny any loss of cognitive ability in my presence; there is no disturbance of motor control or impulsive declarations of love set to music, accompanied by hearts and flowers. With me, men are sensible, practical, measured.

So what of my recent experiences? Where men have used words like “beautiful”, “sexy”, “hot” when describing me. Where they have rambled about “gazing into my eyes”, sent me happy faces blowing hearts and kisses and blathered about my ability to make them go “crazy”. What is this about? “You have an incredible body” is not a phrase I have ever heard, even from my husband. I know I don’t, so to hear it is both flattering and shocking and slightly irritating. Having never thought of myself as being That girl, I am very unaccustomed to receiving her praise and eliciting her effects on men. I don’t know what the hell is going on to be quite honest.

I am not That girl. I am afraid, however, that I will start to believe I am. Believe my own hype. The way down is long. Girls like me were never meant to fly.