It took years before I was aware the prettier I became the easier life was for me; the more people wanted to do for me and wanted to be around me. There were times things could be fairly easy because of my looks; however, like with my personality and being bipolar, my beauty waxes and wanes. I have a tendency to go through periods of “letting myself go”; I have gained weight, had acne, and gone through lengthy periods of leaving the house without caring about my hair or makeup.
Still, I have a personality most do not forget; rarely would anybody say they would not remember me. They would say either they like me very much, or they strongly dislike me; though, seldom would anyone say they could not recollect me.
Even during those periods of my waxing physical attractiveness, I have noticed my ability to charm others and usually get what I want. I have never had a job interview that did not produce employment, a date that did not result in a request for a second date, a romance that did not blossom into something, and have great luck in getting quick service in restaurants while others have to wait 45 minutes or more.
A few months ago, my mother and I were out on my birthday and were at a saloon in a historical town; she wanted to test her theory about a local bartender who was only interested in tips from tourists. She challenged me to order our drinks thinking he would not help me for an inordinate period of time. When he helped me immediately, she was incredulous; snapping, “It’s because you’re pretty so you always get what you want.” The bartender responded to me instantaneously all evening and was flirtatious and gracious, much to my mother’s chagrin.
On the other hand, there have been times when I have not been as confident and I have been on the waning side of my charm and good looks; choosing to sink into the dark side of the pole of my bipolar madness. During those times, I am lonely in my relationships, would not think of going out for a job interview, and only whine when waiting in line for a 30-minute wait at a restaurant. I am the ugly duckling.
My uncle’s ex-girlfriend has five Pomeranians; she moved out but could not take the dogs with her, so she left three of them with my uncle. She takes two for a few weeks and then comes back and rotates them out taking two others. Both my uncle and his ex have a hierarchy of their favorite dogs, with each favoring the smallest, a three-pound cutie with the smallest legs I have ever seen.
It is easy to love the beautiful ones with the most outgoing personality; like me, they put themselves out there, the look at you with loving eyes, and they respond when you talk to them. Whenever there is something going on in the kitchen – practically all day during the holidays – the most outgoing of them come running and perform little tricks to get a morsel; they are rewarded with scraps of meat from roasts or other goodies.
Conversely, there is one little dog who is the least preferred of them both; she is very timid, she does not have a fluffy coat like the other dogs, and when you talk to her, she cowers down as if she has been abused. She is not as pretty or outgoing as the other dogs; when you want to give the dogs a treat; she has to be tracked down so it seems fair.
At one point, one of the neighbors wanted the dog, so the ex-girlfriend gave her away to them; the family returned her after two weeks when they claimed she was not housebroken. That was it, she was not good enough for them, they just brought her back, she no longer belonged.
She is the ugly duckling.
I think she is beautiful.
She is my favorite.