So why aren’t I one of the pretty girls? Why was I born a plain Jane?
I’m the girl who is always second; the one whose name no one even remembers. The winner and the loser is often recorded and remembered. But very few second place holders are ever recalled. Never being one to have a boyfriend, being popular was never my thing Especially at school, I was the girl no one liked, no one chose me to be on their team – many never even knew my name. I had no friends; just had some kids who tolerated me hanging out with them.
I was the girl no boy asked to dance at the local disco or school dances. Even my friends had dates. The popular girls had oodles of choices of dates. I didn’t even have one. I felt ugly. I felt horrible. I hated being me. I was never a princess or one of the pretty girls; more like the ogre or an ugly duckling. The girl no one wanted to know. Even today reflecting, on my younger years, I still feel I never did fit any common mold of beauty, prettiness or popularity.
People have made me feel so inferior all my life and I’m not sure I will ever have that true confidence that I try to portray I have every day. To not let the “in”crowd bother me. To not let the negative comments of “you’re not my type” have an impact on my soul. To not let all the pretty, popular girls have an impact my self esteem. To not let all the skinny perfect shape girls look down on me or comment how they have disgusting flaws – like one stretch mark not dozens too many to count. Or how they whine about their weight yet eat whatever they like and here I am putting on weight just thinking about any food.
These pretty popular girls who have everything in life… a great looking guy with an important job, a nice house on a nice street in a nice area, perfect kids who are great at sports, dancing, school and are invited to all the other kids’ birthday parties, a new car every other year, are invited to every social outing of the year, and who have the good looking friends to match.
I’m the girl a man doesn’t pick or choose. Because I’m not pretty enough or thin enough or rich enough or popular enough. I’m the one the man likes to friendzone. Even then the friend zone can be scarce.
As a young girl the only thing Ι knew as love was if a man wanted to have sex with you. Love was not on their mind. It’s only now, as a wiser, grown woman, Ι realize this. I wish every young girl knew this. But the popular girls do know this. They know they can lead a man on for a long stretch of time because she knows he wants the girl with the looks.
He wants the pretty girl with all the trimmings.
It appears the girls with the pretty genes and expensive jeans are more believable, more loveable, more intelligent and better people. The pretty pretentious girls get the good life. The plain Janes don’t even get a mirror; or a look in.
The men ooooh and aaaah over the pretty girls’ ass… over her long locks… over her pretentious attitude. They form groups to talk just about her camel toe or cleavage whether she has one or not. And these popular girls get to choose which man they want out of all of them. Plain Janes get to watch.
Just like back in the school yard, I was never chosen by any men because there was always someone prettier, thinner, smarter, and richer. Someone who always stood at the end of the line never being picked or chosen, either left out completely or told by the teacher whose team I would be in.
When I realized I was never going to be part of that team, part of the popular crowd, part of that illusion of beauty, prettiness, athletics, or just the natural chic in the jeans and t-shirt, I became the only girl I knew how to be – me. I became the girl I wanted to be, not the perception of what “A woman should be like” I’d grown up with. I discovered that being the plain Jane was extraordinary and exciting as I bore neither label nor expectation. I could be free to be me. I could assess my strengths and absorb my plainness and turn it into something beautiful.
I used my will and determination to focus on playing the hand I was given and all I was born with. A brain and an imagination; a lethal combination.
A game worth challenging and playing to win.
Now I see why, its all really just like a game of cards…from Αce to Joker to Queen to King…a hand of fate to play; to win.
Most people take the road often travelled
For me I seem to get the ace when all I ever want is the queen
My luck only comes when love is all I have
To the few who truly know me only know what they’ve seen.
For my journey is not theirs its mine alone to follow
Watching with awareness the ace is all that’s left
Bringing all the fight and courage to the path I always walk
The mirror shows a girl who will stand up and reflect.
We all face adversity in times of grief and sorrow
The cards we’re dealt are nothing short of fate
Life treats us differently and luck it plays a part
Though for some it takes a toll
So numbing on the heart.
I do not walk alone yet loneliness can creep in
The black jack can appear to mean that faith is tested
Deemed a card I can but trust
Till my mind and soul are rested.