I have been a social retard all my life. When I was in school, I was a huge nerd (had more Star Wars shit than I ever had Barbie). A kid once told me that there was no way someone as ugly as me could ever make the dance team (I did, by the way) but still, no one ever got me. At our 10 year reunion (which my best friend drug me too, kicking and screaming) it was the same shit. People all segregated into the same clicks, bragging about their accomplishments. And it wasn't that I didn't have any, I just failed to see the need to share my personal life with these morons. So I told them I invented Post-its. You would have thought I told them I had had a sex change and was now practicing beastiality.
In August of last year, against my better judgement, I decided to become a consultant for...... we will just call it mollycoddled cookware. My biggest challenge, since I love to cook and the love product.............is, well... I am not a fan of people. So picture me in a apron (which I had originally purchased for my Burlesque dance class) in a strangers kitchen, surrounded by more strangers attempting to be charming and likable. Its not a pretty picture. But I am trying, because lately, my follow through sucks. Like Burlesque class. Though I only took the class to help me with my self esteem (which it didn't). And thought I could use the sexy new dances to charm my husband into having sex with me (which I haven't bothered to try because I would just come off as desperate and silly).
My husband used to tell me that I was weird, but just weird enough to be sexy. He never tells me I'm sexy any more. Now I have to assume I've gone past the slightly weird stage and moved on to the crazy ol' lady stage. Or the charm has worn thin and he is amused no longer. I know his lack of interest in me effects how I see myself. No amount of telling myself that it isn't me, it's him..........helps. A few years ago (with the help of a good therapist, mine not his) I had convinced myself that it wasn't me. And then I found out about the affair. SO IT WAS ME?!?!?!? And two years has done little to heal. In some ways it has only gotten worse. At least I feel worse about myself.
There was a time when I was so confident. I truly loved who I was. I worked so long to dig myself out from all the bullshit I endured as a kid to become a tenacious, strong woman. I knew I was beautiful, inside and out. And when I look at old photos, I have changed little. But what I see when I look in the mirror is so different. I don't feel loved or desired and the reflection does not appear to be worthy of either.
So........... I'm an ass and make jokes about little kids whose favorite color is ham. Then when people scoff at me, at least I know I have given them a good reason.
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