Daffnee

Now that I'm getting over my little cold, there's something I need to get off my chest.

*** WARNING: CATHARSIS BELOW ***

The BF's cousin and friend came in from Colorado last week to do the New York thing for a few days. They're early-college aged, nice, and a little loud (but tolerable). We ended up doing a lot of the touristy things with them -- Empire State Building, musicals, etc. I think they had a good time. The thing was, something was gnawing at me the whole week that they were here, and I need to emphasize it wasn't at all their fault.

They were pretty. And I hate pretty people.

This is the point where people who hear me say this jump in and say that I can't possibly mean I hate all pretty people, don't I know that I shouldn't judge people by their looks, and so on. They're right, of course, but that's not what I mean by "pretty people". I use the term "pretty people" to define a very specific group: teenaged (or so), long-haired, and skinny girls that got/get dates in high school or early college and wear too much mascara. I, of course, was younger, smarter, Asian (went to school in a semi-rural area) chubby and completely oblivious to pop culture because I really didn't get why brown lipstick was so great. They made my life a living hell for most of my formative years, and I really haven't forgiven them yet.

I'm not trying to elicit sympathy here -- I don't think my experience was unique. That said, I'm willing to bet that every one of us who was in that position can remember what was said to us, even if it's been more than a decade: "Man, I wish I was you -- well, not really. I just want your brain, not, like, your body." "Oh my god, what is that? I only eat normal food." (referring to rice.) "It's not brown, it's toast."

Lady, your lipstick was brown.

I find it particularly aggravating that people who had no problem dating in high school feel like they have the right to jump in my boat and tell me how they too were ostracized. You weren't. Just because you weren't a jock, or a cheerleader, does not make you the kid who wakes up every morning blazingly angry that s/he has to go to school again. Or the kid who thinks about dumbing herself down because trouncing the class over and over again doesn't make her life any easier. Or the kid who decides not to take it anymore and brings a sackful of firearms to school to give those pretty people their comeuppance.

Kids will be kids, and kids can be cruel. And kids that are cruel create kids like me, who will hear about how those pretty people got of high school and then got an abortion/became a cutter/tried to commit suicide/committed suicide, who will laugh, and who will think about all the other things they deserve. You know what's depraved? I feel the same way when I hear about cheerleaders that get raped, killed, and dumped in the middle of a forest somewhere. Or when the kid that was picked on starts shooting a sawed-off shotgun in school.

I'm better now though, I guess. Life really is pretty good. I moved to a new city and that helped a lot. I'm told the best revenge is living well, and that's probably true -- there's no jail time involved.