Got "It"?
You know her. She’s golden. Gorgeous, great body, magnetic personality, intelligent...COOL. Everyone wants to be around her. She drives men absolutely mad. She makes women envious.
I am not That Girl.
Never have been. Boys never broke into a sweat when I walked in the room. Girls didn’t clamor to be my friend. I was a geek girl before it was cool, before “geek grrls”. And not even the other geeks were killing themselves to hang out with me (if it was nowadays, we would form an unbreakable alliance against the cool jerks…). I was, in fact, largely overlooked. I was skinny, flat, had braces, my hair had rebelled and gone from straight to wavy, before I knew how to rein it in with product. And I was so ridiculously shy, not having a clue as to how to start conversations, much less how to keep them going. So I understand why I wasn’t sought after. I do. They couldn’t see past the awkward exterior I had going on, and I didn’t know how to invite them in to see all the weird things going on inside my imaginative mind. And kids, kids usually aren’t willing to dig for gold.
By the time I hit my 20’s, I knew substantially more about hair product and makeup and clothes. And by my mid-to-late 20’s, I was much better at conversing. A friend of mine had once told me about his “party theory”: whenever he went to a party he would ask the people he met questions about themselves, because he’d observed that most people really dig talking about themselves. And it worked! One of the most valuable things I have learned in this world. So I was new and improved! I found out that I too was interesting and funny and relatively easy on the eyes. And other people thought so, too! And lo and behold, I had my share of boyfriends.
But still, I am not That Girl. When I go out in public, I am not besieged by guys buying me drinks or asking me for my phone number. I am not the one they drink themselves stupid over. They don’t get flustered deciding whether or not to make their big move and talk to me. I am not one they can’t forget. I’m just…me. Little me. I mean, I’m cool and all, but I’m not Poe’s Lenore.
But there is a certain freedom in not being That Girl. I don’t feel self-conscious when I go out, wondering if someone’s going to notice me or not. I know that if he talks to me, he really is looking in my eyes. I don’t have to wonder if a man is only after me for my looks—he’s not. I don’t feel like I’m disappointing someone by being myself and not living up to his idea of me. I’m not on anyone’s pedestal. I finally feel like I’m getting the hang of being myself after 36 years, being more than comfortable in this skin I’m in. It’s so nice to be this secure, after so many years of being less than that.
So I’ll let That Girl be That Girl. I’ll be over here, polishing my geek grrl decoder ring.
I am not That Girl.
Never have been. Boys never broke into a sweat when I walked in the room. Girls didn’t clamor to be my friend. I was a geek girl before it was cool, before “geek grrls”. And not even the other geeks were killing themselves to hang out with me (if it was nowadays, we would form an unbreakable alliance against the cool jerks…). I was, in fact, largely overlooked. I was skinny, flat, had braces, my hair had rebelled and gone from straight to wavy, before I knew how to rein it in with product. And I was so ridiculously shy, not having a clue as to how to start conversations, much less how to keep them going. So I understand why I wasn’t sought after. I do. They couldn’t see past the awkward exterior I had going on, and I didn’t know how to invite them in to see all the weird things going on inside my imaginative mind. And kids, kids usually aren’t willing to dig for gold.
By the time I hit my 20’s, I knew substantially more about hair product and makeup and clothes. And by my mid-to-late 20’s, I was much better at conversing. A friend of mine had once told me about his “party theory”: whenever he went to a party he would ask the people he met questions about themselves, because he’d observed that most people really dig talking about themselves. And it worked! One of the most valuable things I have learned in this world. So I was new and improved! I found out that I too was interesting and funny and relatively easy on the eyes. And other people thought so, too! And lo and behold, I had my share of boyfriends.
But still, I am not That Girl. When I go out in public, I am not besieged by guys buying me drinks or asking me for my phone number. I am not the one they drink themselves stupid over. They don’t get flustered deciding whether or not to make their big move and talk to me. I am not one they can’t forget. I’m just…me. Little me. I mean, I’m cool and all, but I’m not Poe’s Lenore.
But there is a certain freedom in not being That Girl. I don’t feel self-conscious when I go out, wondering if someone’s going to notice me or not. I know that if he talks to me, he really is looking in my eyes. I don’t have to wonder if a man is only after me for my looks—he’s not. I don’t feel like I’m disappointing someone by being myself and not living up to his idea of me. I’m not on anyone’s pedestal. I finally feel like I’m getting the hang of being myself after 36 years, being more than comfortable in this skin I’m in. It’s so nice to be this secure, after so many years of being less than that.
So I’ll let That Girl be That Girl. I’ll be over here, polishing my geek grrl decoder ring.
Comments
so revel in your...what do they call it? oh, yes - PERSONALITY. ;D