Thursday, October 28, 2010

"This, this is about my own some-day daughter. When you approach me, already stung-stayed with insecurity, begging, “Mom, will I be pretty? Will I be pretty? , ” I will wipe that question from your mouth like cheap lipstick and answer no.



The word pretty is unworthy of everything you will be, and no child of mine will be contained in five letters. You will be pretty intelligent, pretty creative, pretty amazing, but you will never be merely “pretty.” - Katie Makkai (see the entire poem at http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/pretty-19/)

I was an unfortunately ugly child.  I can say this with some authority since I was there, and I remember everything that ever made me feel less than beautiful.  The short boy-cut hairstyles that my aunt used to give me, the glasses that were so thick and heavy they pulled my ears forward like cab doors, the hand-me-down clothes that never fit quite right or were given to me just as they went out of style...

I was four the first time my parents took me to Hawaii.  For those of you who have never been, in Hawaii, you are often greeted with a lei of flowers given to you by either a male or female native Hawaiian - depending on your gender, if you were boy you would go the female greeter, if you were a girl, subsequently you would go to the male.  I was so ugly when I was four that even in a skirt and a shirt that said "Hawaiian Princess", I was often shuttled to the female greeter.

I have countless scars from my childhood related to my appearance, from the boy who so cruelly asked me out on a date and when I accepted said "No thanks, I don't go out with dogs." to the girlfriends who said "You can't hang out with us because Jay and Alex don't think you're pretty enough."

I never had to ask if I would be pretty, I already knew the answer.

In my last year of high school, I had a friend, his name was Rob.  Rob went to our school, he had been a rugby player, but joined our cheerteam and cheered with me on the Calgary Stampeders Cheerteam.  He used to drive me to the city of practice and one day we were talking about the end of high school and he told me:

"You know Shelley, when you were in Grade 10, you were barely noticeable.  In Grade 11, it was like "oh hey, there's Shelley", and in Grade 12 it was like "whoa, there's Shelley!"  You have truly grown into a beautiful young woman."

A year out of high school I was in a local bar, these two boys sent a drink my way and I went over to them.  We hung out for a few hours talking, dancing, having a great time.  When it was time to leave the one boy asked if I would go home with him.  I looked at him and said "You really don't know who I am, do you.?"  He looked confused and when I revealed to them both that I was the same girl they had ridiculed in high school for three years, they looked shocked (faces I still find amusing today).  "Fuck, did you ever get HOT." the one boy replied.

My point in all of this, is that I never really got over my youth, I have never looked in the mirror and said "wow, Shelley, you are amazing"  I have never viewed myself as one of the "beautiful girls" (and you know who I'm talking about). I still see that little girl in the mirror with the terrible hair cut, the giant looking ears and the horrible lime green leisure suit with the screen on tiger print.  I have spent so much of my life chasing some idealistic version of "beautiful" or "hot", that I've made that version too big, too unattainable.  Will I ever be comfortable with me?  Will I ever see myself the way someone else does?  Do I want to?

I do however, know what I will tell my daughter if she ever asks...