Tales of a Fugly Girl

Assholes in Cars

Fugly Girl — Tue, 25 Aug 2009 05:56:38 +0000

High schoolers in an SUV screamed at me as they drove past me. It wasn’t the rambunctious, “let’s get some attention” kind of screaming. That, I can hear, then smile and wave. Or roll my eyes and shrug, depending on my mood. No, this screaming sounded hostile. It was also unexpected, and it startled me and made me jump, while they sped away.

There’s something to be said for bullies and the mean,taunting children from elementary school. There’s a comfort in their consistency. At least they know you a little bit. At least it’s personal. But when strangers decide that they hate you and want to make spectacle of you, it’s lonely and isolating. They shower you with bile, and then they disappear, and you wonder if what transpired happened in a vacuum. Did that really just happen? Is this really my life?

Ugly Girl at the Fancy Party

Fugly Girl — Wed, 12 Aug 2009 05:26:58 +0000

There was a PostSecret a few weeks ago that quoted Katharine Hepburn, saying, “Plain women know more about men than beautiful ones do.” So true. Whenever I see beautiful girls crying in public over their asshole boyfriends, much as I am loathe to subscribe to the He’s Just Not That Into You philosophy, I’m tempted to pull the girls aside and say, “Listen, honey. There’s just one thing and one thing only that you need to understand about men: If they don’t like you, they’re shits. They’re just real shits. Yes, it’s personal, but it’s not your fault.”

A friend recently had a very fancy birthday party at an exclusive club. Flanked by her assistants, she lurked near the entrance, fund-raising for her cause du jour. I was talking with her as a trio of average-looking guys in expensive clothing walked in. One teased her about “working” on her birthday, and I assured them that I had volunteered to step in if she wanted to go enjoy her party.

He didn’t give me a second glance; he just said, “What I’m really concerned with is what THESE two are going to be doing for fun,” and pointed to her assistants–both gorgeous brunettes with tousled hair and long, tan, legs.

YESSIR, I get it. I do not concern you. I am beneath you; not worth conversation, or banter, and it’s insulting to suggest that we might be in the same league, especially in front of the tens. Believe me, I’ve been to enough of these parties that I know you’re not going to be asking me for my phone number. Still, I do get lonely. Though I do always find someone fun to talk to, and I always make “single serving friends” getting the brush-off stings.

I Kissed My Boyfriend and They Said “Gross”

Fugly Girl — Mon, 10 Aug 2009 01:58:03 +0000

At the tail end of my last relationship, I was at a bar with my boyfriend and his friends. We were teasing each other, and I got up to move around the table to kiss him, you know, ironically. As I was kissing my bug-eyed boyfriend, a couple of guys walked past (a bit greasy looking for my taste, but details) and said, “Gross.”

The boyfriend dumped me two days later. And so began a round of celibacy.