Here’s what I’m wondering.  Why is so easy to believe the bad things, and so amazingly difficult to believe the good?  I’ve said before that I have a fear of not being cute.  It’s vain, I know, but I feel it nonetheless, and therefore it’s real to me.  Now that we’ve arrived at the place we’re I’ve deemed it acceptable to wonder whether or not one is attractive, we will proceed.

I was talking to my roomie last night about The Boy.  And I wondered aloud, maybe he’s not interested because, frankly, I’m not cute.  And roomie’s response was: uh, don’t be retarded, you know that’s not true.  So I pushed farther, I wondered aloud again, well, maybe EVERYONE thinks they’re attractive.  I mean, ugly people have to think they’re cute too, right?  Roomie didn’t think so.  She thinks that ugly people know they’re ugly. 

And then she reminded me that just yesterday a woman in the doctors office struck up a conversation with me, and ended it with telling me I was gorgeous.  Three weeks ago I was walking down the street and a guy I passed commented, “how ya doin’ tonight, beautiful?”

So to Roomie’s reasoning, if a stranger feels compelled to tell you you’re not ugly – then you should believe it.

But in my head, the comments of strangers don’t hold a lot of weight. 

And this leads me to my wondering — why is it so easy to believe the bad things (ie, the media telling me I’m a cow) and not the good things (ie, strangers telling me I’m attractive)?

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