god loves ugly

I'm not beautiful.

Despite however many times I've told you I am, or walked into a room like I think I'm the female Tyra Banks or something, I know I am not beautiful.

A partial list of things I'd need to change to be beautiful:
whiter teeth, smaller boobs, longer legs, no beer gut, skin that tans and doesn't break out when touched by anything, bluer eyes, straighter hair, a straighter nose, no bags under my eyes, skinnier thighs, no freckles.

But, so what? Who cares? Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Beauty is just a social construct. Beauty is only skin deep. I am smart and sassy and beautiful on the inside. The right man will love me not only in spite of my flaws, but because of them. He'll be like, "naw, baby, that spare tire 'round your waist is sexy."

But see, I've been hearing all this stuff about science 'n shit and how that's how attraction really happens. Like, pheromones that you don't even realize are attractive are attracting you. And there are other weird things, like how there are certain scents women release during ovulation that make you extra attractive, and the testosterone levels go up, so you are extra hot at the same time you are extra hot-to-trot. Seriously, it was on Oprah.

So if sexual attraction is science, and love supposedly occurs in the land of the heart beyond all logic, where do the two meet? And if it's a genetic crapshoot, what's the point of the mascara and the hair dye and a the calf implants and the hours in the gym?

Sort of.

Our dumbass human will, that romantic self-defeat I wrote about before, it's powerful shit. It'll over come all the science. It has to. How do hot bimbos end up with ugly rich dudes? A person's will for money or status or sex or compatibility or stability will outweigh pheromones every single time.

What does that mean for me with the asymmetrical face and the questionable pheromones? I guess keep pretending to be clever and wearing control top underwear.