eyelinersmudge

Do you see this man?

Yes, that man.  That man is Neil Tennant, and that man has made me realize a few things about myself tonight.

I started on anothet blog where my own hatred of my face came up.  I mean, I really can't stand my  face.  Especially my profile.  When I turn my head to the side I think I look stupid.  As in, mentally there's something dull about me.  I get upset when I realize that is how I look all the time.   I wonder why the limited boyfriends and girlfriends I've had in the past wanted me.  I want to put on heavy make-up, big sunglasses, wrap my hair about my face and hide behind a hoodie when I leave the house. 

I posed for some pictures for an art project and I was digusted when I saw myself.  I've never felt more unattractive in my life than I do when I think about those pictures.  I feel fat, ugly and everything but beautiful.   My looks have been itching at me since The Nightlife Girls outing.  I was terribly camera shy that day and with good reason.  I hate the side of my face and so much that we do are side shots or the rare one of me smiling where my teeth are visible.  (I hate, hate, hate, hate, hate, hate, hate, HATE my teeth.  I had bad orthodontics done.  My mouth makes me look like a total simp.)  I don't liek the way I look on film.  I can't stand having my picture taken, especially if I'm not turned just right. 

I don't do myself anygood by picking at these things, but I can't help it.  I'll never like myself.  I'll never be thin enough.  I'll never be pretty enough.  I have times where I feel I'm so ugly that no one should look at me.  Prom my junior year I had to be coaxed out of my bedroom because I felt so nasty.   And even at that I went home early to cry and try to hide until my dad pushed me out the door again.  And while I know it's wrong, I've secreatly clung to my diease a good year or so now because I feel like the moment I say "I look ok."  is when I'm in denial and going to get fat and homely again.

I'm not the most talented person I know.  All I have to offer is my body.  So, my looks have become the one thing I'm always measuring myself on.  I am nothing if I am not attractive.  No one wanted to listen to me if I am not pretty.  No one gives a damn about me if I am not one of the beautiful women in the room.  Right now I'm down with the H1N1 virus and all I can think about is how fat Iam and how stupid my hair looks and how nasty my skin is.  People tell me not to feel this way, that I'm just fine.   But they just don't get it.  It's a nasty circle.  I'll never be happy with myself.  Doctor gives me pills to help it.  Pills cause me to retain weight.  I feel worse about myself than before.  I relapse.

Unless I look perfect I am worthless.  That's the bottomline.  And this is where Neil comes into play.

I say he's a reasonably attractive man, and in my opinion he is, but he's not exactly praised for his good looks. On the commentary for Pop Art there's a moment when he says "ew" at seeing his profile. He continues on to say that he has to always be shot straight on, that that is his only good angle. I beg sharply to differ. But it does show there there is some insecurity there. The man who I admire intensely, doesn't like the way he looks. Yet, he means so much to so many people.

       When he stepped out on that Chicago stage he commanded the room. We'd've followed the man to our graves if only he'd asked. Neil Tennant doesn't make People Magazine's most beautiful list, yet he's fabulous in the very sense of the world. He's stunning not for that Wallace and Gromit face of his (which I'm rather fond of, I might add) but for his mind and a voice like a warm steel.

      He makes me swoon whenever I press play.  I value his thoughts on everything.  Every interview I've seen of the man he leaves me hanging on each word he says.  If ever I were to call someone a role model with would Neil Tennant.  Yet, he picks at his looks, rips himself down and struggled to gain confidence.  And, reading those early interviews, it breaks my heart.  On some level  though, it also inspires me.   Neil iksn't a man of conventional looks, but he's vivid and admirable.  The masses enjoy his art.  Eventually he gained confidence and saw himself as the worthwhile creature he is. 

And I ask myself, if it was good enough for Neil why isn't good enough for me? 

Why do I put so much on appearance when people are contstantly proving that looks mean nothing?  I think no one will want me, no one will care to read my writing and no one will give a damn unless I'm beautiful.   Yet, my own icon proves otherwise. 

There's no need to stop improving myself, but there is need to change the way I see things. Beauty is meaningless. It pains me to write it. 

I'm not beautiful.  It is a gift reserved for the few.   I am a valuable person.  And whether or not I have a dumb looking face won't hinder that.  The only thing that dulls my future is the restricts I put on myself.