You Say Ugly, I Say Beautiful

   I don't get it. Why people are so hung up on insults, I mean. Yeah, they make you feel bad, and maybe they'll stick around for a while, but it builds character, right? I've been called ugly, fat, talentless, stupid, stuck-up, worthless, pathetic, cowardly... I could go on, but why bother? I remember, last summer, I was staring at this teenage guy pushing a stroller. I was thinking, at the time, "Wow... How much did he have to fuck up to be put in that position?" I saw him glance at me, and I looked at what my cousin was doing. Not because I was embarrassed--I don't get that way around guys, even if he's hot, which that teenage father so wasn't--but because staring's rude. I heard him laughing, on the next isle, with the two girls with him.

   "Did you see that?" he chuckled. "She was checking me out. Fucking gross." And his buddies laughed. At the time, I was thinking, "no, you pompous asshole. I was wondering how much of an idiot you were to forget the condom. At least I haven't screwed up every chance I have to be a somebody." But he left, and everything went okay. Still, afterward, as I lay in my bed, staring at my ugly salmon colored ceiling, I couldn't help but wonder if he was right. Was I gross? I've been called worse, but it had been a while since I had been insulted by a stranger.

   And now, here I am, one year later, thinking, "wow. What an asshat. Who would fuck that?" And not because I'm pissed at him for insulting a girl he'll never remember, and not because I still haven't forgotten, but because I honestly wonder why anyone would willingly be with a guy like that. As I've said before, I'm sure chivalry is dead. I can see my reflection in the window on front of me. Long teased bangs, the rest of my hair in a braid, black tanktop, a colorful rock-paper-scissors necklace, too much eyeliner. But I'm perfect the way I am, and if other people can't accept that, then they can go bend over backwards and suck themselves off. The reason I get all dressed up and put on makeup even if I have nowhere to go is because I do it for me, so that I think I'm beautiful. The jewelry, the torn clothes, the lip gloss. It's all for me. Yes, other people's opinions matter to me, but not as much as my own opinion about myself.

   I guess I just want to know why people are so hung up on other people's opinion. It's a waste of brain power.