I'm sorry that I haven't updated in a while. I forget I have the blog (and I post a lot more on Tumblr because that's where many of my friends are, even more than on Facebook) so I don't write here a lot. I need to rectify that, but when life calms down a little, I will. Anyway, I'm here because I had another semi-weighty introspective-with-external-consequences thought/ scenario that's better for this format than on social networking (although, depending on how I feel, I may cross-post it to Tumblr too).
I have depression and I struggle with it quite a bit, but I'm on meds now and the general pervasiveness of depression has more or less lifted which is great. But that doesn't mean that it doesn't come back with violence when things arise and I invariably get down on myself. And part of getting down on myself comes from my discomfort with my appearance. Now, rationally, I know I'm not that bad looking. Emotionally, however, I think I'm the most hideous being to walk this earth. But I think that's kind of understandable since most of us are our own worst critics. Many of my friends know I think this about myself and they come to my aid, telling me I'm handsome, or hot, or adorable. And I appreciate this immeasurably since it fights against all those self-defeating beliefs I've had since childhood. I won't discourage it because it is sweet of them and it helps bolster me up a little bit, even if I don't believe it completely. But because I know rationally that I'm not the most revolting creature on the planet, often I feel like saying, "no, being attractive is NOT the issue," because it's not.
I grabbed food with a few of my friends the other night and then we went back to one of their apartments to eat it. As we were strewn about the living room like cats after gorging ourselves, one of them asked me about my date (which I haven't spoken to anyone about because I don't want to jinx it) and I admitted to how awkward and uncomfortable I was, not because of my date, but because of myself and how ill-at-ease I am in public. The inevitable ad lib chorus of "but you're not ugly" went around the room and I facepalmed. I facepalmed hard. And so I tried to explain it to them, not because I wasn't appreciative, but because it illustrates just how clueless they all are. So I told them it wasn't a matter of being ugly because I, deep down, know that I am not. I told them it's a matter of looking ridiculous.
I told them, if they wanted to replicate how it feels (all of them are quite attractive themselves), it would be easy to do. I told them to wear red clown noses (not the cheap foam ones at party stores, but decent quality ProKnows ones that fit their noses for comfort) for a month. Doesn't have to be big. Can be as small as they like. No taking it off. Not for bed, not for work, not for school, not for grocery shopping, not for hanging out with their friends. And they would feel it every day. And look at it every day. And everyone else would look at it too. It wouldn't change their face. They would still be quite attractive, but they would look ridiculous, and no one would take them seriously, and people would stare at them and talk about them and point and regard them as objects rather than as people. And everyone in the room got a look in their eyes like "oh shit." I think they understood.
