Okay, so this is just... shyeesh. I mean, seriously, yikes. Maybe it's because I've always had body-image issues. Maybe it's because my self-esteem hasn't always been where it could be. Maybe it's because of the good ol' Catholic guilt that's been simmering in me for a quarter of a century (a little more salt, sprinkle it with Parmesan, and it'll be done soon). But seriously... yikes.
Now, I'm not going to say anything about her looks. Fivehead notwithstanding, she's not completely unfortunate looking, and although some blogs have dug up some none-too-flattering pictures of her, hey - I've got some unattractive ones out there, and no one's pretty when they travel.
What I am going to say won't actually be my own words, but the words of a friend. A group of us were out one evening, and Billy (not a pseudonym; some guys in the south actually go by Billy) decided to try his hand with the slim, attractive, well-dressed blonde chick at the bar. But he'd only gotten halfway there before he observed her reaction to the last guy who'd tried to buy her a drink, turned on his heel, and returned to the table, shaking his head.
"Damn," he said. "Ain't nobody that hot."
What he meant, Jacqueline Mackie Paisley Passey, was that no matter how thin you are, no matter how much money you have, no matter how educated you are, no matter how smart you are, there is a level of bitchiness that cannot be overcome by any level of physical or personal attractiveness. And by Billy's standards (which are also mine), JackieMackiePackiePackie, you are a skank.
Besides, JMPP, you may be surprised to learn that you're far from the only "high-quality woman" out there. Take, for instance, Your Humble Blogger:
- I've got a decent body. My brand-new sofa, purchased and delivered a full ten days ago, has yet to sag or show any sign of IAD (Indelible Ass Denting). And the drunk, psychotic homeless guys who hang around the fountain at Five Points tell me all the time how impressive it is that I have tits and ass, sometimes yelling it at the top of their lungs over and over and over just to make sure I'm aware of their admiration.
- I'm attractive. When I put an ad up on Match.com for three months, I was constantly complimented on my smile by guys who couldn't find a date the traditional way and wanted to have sex with any willing woman they could meet online.
- I'm young - younger than you, even, which means I've got more useful years left in me before my body goes to seed - and what's more, I'm immature enough that any guy who dates me will feel like he's out with a teenager long after I've hit 30.
- I'm intelligent. I managed to neglect two full semesters of high school Calculus due to having Tetris on my graphing calculator, and I still passed with a C. And I've managed to make it 25 years without leaving the house with my shoes on the wrong feet, except for that one time, which totally wasn't my fault.
- I'm educated. I graduated from college with an advertising degree that I am finally, after three years, actually using, which sets me apart from all of the other women my age who have degrees in things like microbiology and particle physics and other things that aren't advertising.
- I'm not independently wealthy, and, oaky, I have a metric assload of credit card debt, but I'm bomb-ass at budgeting and I have a steady income and an enviable shoe-and-handbag collection that, in case of emergency, could easily be liquidated or, alternately, boiled and eaten.
- I'm single and I live alone, so my distinct lack of lover has never had any complaints about my sex drive.
- My interests are widely varied and include automobiles, Days of Our Lives, drunken karaoke, giving my opinions on things I know nothing about, horseback riding, Hugh Jackman with his shirt off, ice skating, knitting, live music, playing the piano, traveling to exotic corners of Alabama, and watching football on TV with one hand in a bowl of popcorn, all of which can be done naked to increase male interest levels and none of which I'm very good at so I won't be intimidating any guys like some people who shall remain nameless, Jackie Mackie Po-Packie.
I myself have no concrete plans for self-improvement because, as you can see, there's nothing left to improve.
And unlike JackaMackaDingDong, I'm not a complete biznitch. I'm not going to go around telling the entire Internets that I'm too good for them and that they don't even need to waste my time. I wait for someone to actually approach me before I brutally shoot them down, explain in detail why they're an insufficient match for my innate awesomeness, and give them an itemized list in letters, numbers, and Roman numerals telling them how they might begin to be worthy of someone almost half as cool as I am.
Because in the end, it's all about humility and being nice to people.