The Definition of Attractive

Years ago, attractive was a word I knew nothing about. I happened to be very homely as a child. The cute girls were the ones who sat in the teacher's lap at daycare, formed their own clubs while assuming the role of self-proclaimed president, and viciously tormented all others less fortunate than they. Because I liked to climb trees, eat pecans off of the ground, and God forbid, play with boys, I was rejected by them. Fortunately I was blessed with some intelligence, and this early dismissal affected my self image little. Physcally, I accepted that I would never be an eight year old beauty. I would have to quit being mistaken for a boy first. However, I knew that these girls were inferior academically and that, ultimately, this would be their downfall. I marveled at how the majority of my playmates mindlessly followed the influence of the dayschool elite. Could they not see how their leaders' sugary sweetness turned to venom as soon as the teacher left the room?

Because I refused to follow the oblivious mass, I often found myself alone on the playground. This rejection allowed me to expand other talents. I read, wrote, and constantly imagined. Because the world that I lived in was not beautiful to me, I delved into other worlds that were. Being that I was a certain target for either negiligence or harrassment during after school daycare, homework began to seem like a much safer alternative. As I progressed upward through my elementary school education, I became quite a successful student. I began to embrace school. Learning allowed a mental outlet for all of my emotional frustrations.

The start of middle school upset the balance that I had created for myself. Just like every twelve year old girl, I became increasingly self-aware. The physical changes that I underwent forced me to begin thinking. I had always considered beautiful people to be evil. I do not mean to offend any readers who happened to be cute as kids. It is just how I survived. Now I began to wonder if it was possible to be smart and cute. I would certainly make an attempt to find out.

By high school, I had completely transformed myself into a full-fledged girly girl. I began to wear skirts and cross my legs. My morning routine had expanded to include make-up and curlers. Fortunately I had enough good sense to keep up with my schoolwork. The smart girl stigma never quite wore off. So, I was, for the most part, undatable. However, a couple of boyfriends helped boost my confidence enough to know that I did, indeed, belong in my new feminine role.

I received a nice academic scholarship to college and arrived on August 15, 2004. The attention I received from the male sex the moment that I stepped onto campus was incredible. I had seen boys flirt with girls, and I had seen girls flirt with boys. But never before had I taken part in the festivities. I knew that I was sweet and funny and smart. Now I was absolutely confirmed to be good-looking as well. I had a good time for awhile. I flirted and teased. I even casually dated more than one guy at a time (something completely unheard of during days when I was lucky to have one guy interested).

After a couple of months, however, something became increasingly wrong. The boys' attention began to drift. There comes a point, regardless of how painful it may be, where becomes essential to do a self-evaluation. The guys didn't know how sweet or funny or smart I was. They only saw me as "hot." Hot is a word used more commonly by guys than girls would like to think and does not have much retaining value after the initial interest begins to wane. I had not done much to present myself as anything more than a flighty, ditzy little barbie doll. I was ashamed. I had allowed myself to enter the world that I despised simply because I had finally been accepted.

Today, I still curl my hair. But I also received a 4.0 for my first semester of college. I am involved in a wonderful relationship in which both parties appreciate the physical as well as mental aspects of each other. Finding this balance of qualities and attributes has finally enlightened me to the definition of attractive.

These Are a Few of My Favorite Things

To borrow an idea from a friend's weblog, the following is a list of things that make me smile:

• sunsets
  
• rainbows
  
• sunny days
  
• knowing that I have made those who love me proud
  
• cheesecake
  
• the goodness that is Matt
  
• swimming
  
• the hungry feeling that results from swimming
  
• watermelon
  
• curling my hair
  
• hearing compliments
  
• singing
  
• knowing that there are people who love me enough to put up with my singing
  
• talking to strangers on the elevator
  
• dancing with Leighann in traffic jams
  
• being taken care of by Mom when I am sick
  
• receiving handwritten letters
  
• the runner's high after exercise
  
• looking out of my sixth floor window at downtown after dark
  
• actually cooking for myself
  
• being cooked for when I go home
  
• manicures
  
• kitty cats
  
• puppy dogs
  
• the zoo
  
• flowers
  

These are just a few of my favorite things. Isn't life wonderful?

Big City, Country Girl

I am officially back in Birmingham after a lovely Christmas break. I feel rested and ready to rejoin the absolute chaos that accompanies living in a city and attending college. However, this first weekend I decided to celebrate the new semester by taking a trip back in time with my friend Leighann.

The weekend commenced with a monster truck show Friday night at the BJCC Arena. I have never seen so many camouflaged-clad, boot bearing red-necks in downtown Birmingham at one time. It was spectacular. The first truck that jumped the cars initiated blood-curdling screams from Leighann and me. There is something so unnatural and frightening about a truck that enormous flying through the air. We were terrified, though somewhat exhilerated by the sight of it. Later we would laugh at ourselves for being wimps in front of the millions of children under the age of ten that seemed completely unaffected.

Saturday consisted of visiting with another counselor from camp on his farm in Clay County. Though I am a native of Alexander City, I have never participated in the one activity that basically defines small town recreation-- mudriding. Leighann and I convinced our host to take us. I must admit that as the three of us bounced and splashed down muddy back roads, I had the most fun that I've had in a long time. Climbing down from the truck, I took in the view. I really looked at the stars sparkling and swirling in the never-ending, black sky, I really smelled the crisp country air, I heard the voices of every night creature, and I thought to myself, "This is heaven on earth."

I love city life. I wear my bling, my heels, and my make-up. I get my hair did, I walk through the busy streets laughing, and I dance the night away. I've worked hard to transform my life. I constantly feel the desire to move up and out. There is a better life out there than the one that was forced on me from infancy. But it seems that no matter how hard I try to forget where I've come from, there is always something that happens every once in awhile to remind me that there is a part of me that will always be that shy little country girl from a teeny town that no one's heard of. And though it doesn't seem glamorous or exciting, there is a tiny recurring thought that perhaps I might finally find the self-fulfillment that I've been searching for by relaxing on the front porch on a sunny day in the country.