was she a) pretty, b) intelligent, c) big boobed/skinny/funny/nice/loved by the family d) all of the above, e) none of the above? perhaps the answer is not: “do you really want to know the answer”, because you will make it up in your own head depending upon self-esteem related hormonal fluctuations. it is human nature to compare ourselves to others, i don’t care if you’re bleating about a childhood filled with braces, glasses, a stammer and merciless teasing. the tall, skinny and perfectly tweezed that we (the formerly brace faced and be-spectacled) make fun of now, compare themselves too. our commonality is wanting to be perceived as more favourable than “the last”. there is a need to be different, better, new and improved, unique, and therefore a perfect match.

however, you don’t want to be too different if that was the “type” and youre living on borrowed rebound time. we secretly clench from grinning our straight teeth off that she was “needy”, “not terribly motivated”, and “kinda chunked out towards the end”. by the same token “psycho bitch from hell who had 18 cats, a chihuaha and an entire drawer just to house her belt collection, 48 candles ranging from butterscotch to batman’s crotch, and a throw pillow collection that would require the assistance of a small army of bangladeshi labourers to set up in the morning” could indicate an error in his judgement or a very angry personality.suddenly our predecessors take on the oxymoronic status of celebrity airbrushed proportions and pulitzer prize winning humans. when you meet someone new you want to be liked, admired, chased, “yearned” for. you are glamorous and sexy, but natural in no make-up, flip flops and pyjamas. you can be ready to go in 15 minutes (ha! the “others” took forever titivating and primping). we are good with children- did you see how the little girl at the supermarket responded to me? we are the pied pipers of the animal kingdom- dogs flock to me in the park, but only the cute retriever looking ones that make me look like i’m in a tampon commercial. other people find us witty, charming, funny, entertaining- did you hear my phone ring again with a good friend seeking emotional counsel due to a personal crisis- see? see? others see me as wise, nurturing; i am needed.

narcissism is the crispy denial coated surface to all the burning insecurities and jealousies underneath. the dictating variable of the “currents” emotional temperature is the delusion created about “her”.a friend told me of her now ex who had kept his ex’s picture up as a screensaver. she was russian, intelligent, model-like and could carry TV’s with a single flick of her pinky. however, my friend is now the leggy, silken brunette, who is low maintenance (for a girl), intelligent, independent, athletic, fun, and educated. another friend told me how her current’s ex (another “cultured” and “intelligent” “foreigner”) is going to stay with his mother this holiday season, this is obviously driving her batty.

i tend to only notice the shoes on my feet and have driven my fair share of currents and exe’s currents batty by maintaining friendships with them, their friends, and family. to the point where i found myself sitting opposite his new bride-to-be at brunch giving her suggestions on wedding dresses. perhaps a control issue on my part? oh no, i am far too evolved for such “human” qualities. i blog from the authority of a formerly buck toothed, myopic individual who occupies her time hiding behind multi-syllabic words and run on sentences, submerged in a delayed state of narcissistic adolescent self absorption, who therefore feels justified in poking fun at surgically enhanced females that sport handbags with their designer’s initials emblazoned on them.the answer to the witch’s question is usually related to our self inventories that we perceive as being grossly deficient. there is an option to perseverate on the past, or stop poring over yourself in the mirror, throw it away and look at the person who is checking you out face-to-face. of course when they tell you they like your cup size, hair colour, height, chipped toe nails, ratty and mismatched underwear you then actually have to work on believing them.

*this particular ramble was inspired by leanne shapton’s “was she pretty?”, a rather cool line drawing/poetry-esque style book, and subsequent conversations with friends who needed (my) sage and nurturing advice (obviously).

Disa, 31, Louisville

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