10 Reasons I’m Glad I’m Not A Perfect 10

Wendy Stokesby:


Being gorgeous sounds pretty great. It sounds like exactly what a woman might want to be. When you’re gorgeous, the world is supposedly your oyster. Whatever that means. More like, the world is your lobster, because people want to buy you expensive stuff. But is being incredibly hot really all that it’s cracked up to be? I think not! You look shocked. But read on. I will give you 10 solid reasons why I’m glad I’m not a perfect 10.

1. There’s less pressure. I don’t have to worry about which big designer to model for or whether I want to focus more on my movie career or work to define myself as “more than just another pretty face.” Instead, I can write freelance pieces and a blog about body image! Phew. SO much easier.

2. I have room to grow. I’m like the girl in the movie who hasn’t gotten a makeover yet. Who knows what’s under these overalls and glasses? I do, and I’ll tell you: gray cotton underwear, a mismatching, four-year-old bra, and I don’t wear glasses. But seriously—I don’t try that hard. I like to be comfortable. And it’s totally possible, if somewhat unlikely, that if someday someone decides to give me a comprehensive makeover, I will emerge with … a nicer bra and more makeup! The point is, I’m not already stunning, but I’m not totally convinced I don’t have a germ of stunningness in me. That made it sound like an illness. I’m sorry, beautiful people.

3. When I look really hot, it’s a surprise. It’s like someone just gave me an awesome gift. I don’t take it for granted at all. I’m more like, “What did I do to deserve this? Someone get a camera! NOW. OK, I’m gonna take my clothes off and I want you to capture this—get my perfect legs in there, too. I am so blessed! Lord, you are indeed a generous God!” And then the next day, when I realize I’m still oddly shaped and have back fat, the photos must all be deleted except for one blurry one, which counts as art and hides my face. It’s more like “What the Lord giveth He taketh away.”

4. I am pretty sure my husband loves me for me. And not because I’m a supermodel. Because I’m not a supermodel.

5. I can eat more cake. My blog is called Eat the Damn Cake for a reason. I really believe in this. And because I’m not a perfect 10, which seems to generally involve thinness for some reason, I can eat more cake without worrying about destroying my perfection. Instead, my perfection is always changing and evolving, and also, it isn’t perfect at all. It’s more “innovative.” Or “gritty.” Or “believable.” When I gain weight, I don’t have to worry about ruining my image—instead, I can discover how I look with more curves. Verdict: happy! And possibly sexy as well.

6. Other women are never threatened by me. Instead, they take me under their wing and are like, “Aw, honey … Did your mom never teach you how to put on eyeliner? Do you need a lesson? Here, let’s just do that now, so you know how to be a woman.” I like this because my mom never taught me how to put on eyeliner and it seems scary to me, and I definitely need a lesson, because I might put out an eye otherwise.

7. I can turn invisible. It’s a superpower of the non-fantastically gorgeous. Now you see me, now you’re checking out that other girl on the subway instead, and I have vanished inside an invisibility cloak of ill-fitting jeans, bad hair, and a bulky, football sweatshirt. Which, honestly, is sometimes exactly what I want. It’s nice not to be on the spot all the time. I know I can dress up and get attention. But sometimes I’m just tired or really full or thinking about more important things, like whether Detective Beckett is EVER going to stop being such a pu**y (can you even call a woman that, or does it mean something else when you do?) and make out with Castle.

8. I can wear whatever I want. I don’t have a signature style, or certain clothes that are devastatingly gorgeous on me. So I experiment a lot. Red tights? Why not? It’s not like I have anything to lose. Parachute pants tucked into bright yellow rubber boots under a plaid tunic? LET’S DO IT!

9. I never get anything because of my looks. No one ever even thinks that. They always assume I’m hard-working and motivated and smart. Which I am! At least, I try to be. Because I can’t rely on my looks to get me that six-figure book deal. I have only these 10 fingers for typing and a brain that has concocted the best dystopian YA fantasy novel plot since The Hunger Games (big time literary agents, you should check this out) to rely on. And these Oreos, which fuel my creative process. I need those, too.

10. The people who think I’m beautiful think I’m really beautiful. They’re not just messin’ around. And because they think people who look like me are beautiful, they’re also the kind of people who are not into the gorgeous movie star look. They’re like, “Eh, Megan Fox … She’s kinda boring, don’t you think?” And I’m like, “No, she’s like a friggin’ goddess made out of perfection. How the hell are her boobs so big when her arms are so skinny?” And they’re like, “I like a woman with soft, squishy arms. It’s sexier.” And I’m like, “Whatever, you’re weird.” But actually, it’s great. Because I don’t have to be threatened by stunningly beautiful women. The people who are into them aren’t into me. The people who are into me aren’t into them. One time I dated a guy after I heard him discussing who was the hottest movie star with some other guys and then suddenly he pointed across the room at me and was like, “She’s hotter than Angelina Jolie.” I’m not gonna lie—it was one of my favorite things that’s ever happened to me. Maybe that’s sad. But I refuse to take it back.
And I could totally think of more reasons, too. But for now, I rest my case. Yay for not being a perfect 10!! Don’t look at me like that—I mean it! Now where are those Oreos…

Original by Kate Fridkis

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