Tuesday, January 13, 2004

I had a great posting all planned out in my head before I fell asleep last night, but sleep being what it is, I no longer remember the "blog to end all blogs." That kind of sucks.

I'm still hung up on this whole attractiveness level thing. I've got no actual, personal issues with it at the moment (in other words, no one I'm wondering about being attractive or not...), but the issue is an important one.

I like Mama's opinion that a man should be "reasonable attractive with a really good heart" rather than "hot." That makes sense to me. I'm trying to make that work.

I'm not the type of girl that hot guys (or guys who know they're hot...but don't all hot guys know they're hot?) go for. I think I'm a "late bloomer." Granted, I'm not up for Model of the Year or anything. I'm the proverbial "pretty, nice girl." So, all of these janky (heeeeeyyyy, I can use that word again!) guys come up to me and flirt or assume they can get somewhere with me, because I don't act all caught up in my hair, nails and perfectly applied makeup. I know that I sound really shallow talking like this, but I think that is rooted in being teased as a child. Those who were called fat will always be over-aware of their bodies. Those who were called ugly will always imagine themselves as alternatively having some gross disfiguration or being Miss America. In my Miss America moments, I want to date J.T. Snow or some basketball player chosen by Jessica (my "gatekeeper" has a strange affinity for basketball players...and would love to see me marry one, since her deal with her own computer-nerd seems pretty solid - although she did convince him to get a D&G suit). In my ugly moments, I want to stay inside.

I've said it once, and I'll say it again. There's someone perfect out there for me...he may not be in California, and that's something I'll have to deal with as it happens.

You see, I can picture myself living somewhere else (and I've done it with varying success), happily ensconsced in my home with my husband and "hypothetical" children, but when I think about the emotional trauma of packing up and leaving, YET AGAIN, I don't think it's possible. If I didn't have to go through the leaving process, and if I didn't have to be too far from the units, the pets, the friends, I could survive it. If I could take everyone I value with me, then I could live somewhere else.

Does that mean I have to stay in "the Field?"

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