As hormones started to kick in and the pretty girls were identified (for at least the next 10 years), being scrawny and boyish was bad enough. But I had to wear these thick plastic glasses too?! They were just setting me up for social failure. Beauties never wear glasses. You don’t see singers, actresses or models with glasses unless they’re playing the part of the nerdy and the less attractive. Glasses were like having braces, being flat-chested and having short hair. You just didn’t want that. Glasses did not equal attractive.
Eye of the Beholder: Apples, Pears and Bananas
You see genetics had not been as kind to me as they could have been. The women on either side of my family are uniquely beautiful. Faces aside, you have apples and pears. My mother’s side of the family generally rocks the apples. Red delicious, granny smith, pink lady, take your pick. Top-heavy w/ smaller bottoms and, dare I say it, skinny legs. That shape may not be everyone’s ideal but it is what I saw growing up and expected to resemble. My dad’s family on the other hand were the classic pears. Petite tops and small waists poised upon “thick” bottoms. While one side struggles to find button-ups that don’t gap, the other struggles to find bottoms that fit the ass AND the waist. I could’ve been the classic coke-bottle, big-little-big. Instead, and in keeping with the fruits, I ended up a slightly deformed banana, straight up and down with a butt, only one of the desirable curves.
Friendly Drama: When I Didn’t Know Any Better
These ladies have known me for (nearly) half of my life. They’ve seen me fight, cry, yell, stare, run, and smile. We’ve seen each other through puberty, AP tests, custody battles, puppy love, first loves, college applications, driver’s licenses, parties, prom, and leaving all of that behind for college. We fell apart during those college years, casually seeing each other when we were all back home but it was never the same. And as sad as that realization may have been, there was still something that made us come back together (hoping). I always wondered what that was exactly. Obviously, we’d all changed and no longer had the classroom to force us together. What was it that made me still call her “my friend”? And actually mean it?
