2004-07-03 - 1:48 p.m.
Adventures in Campland: Day 13
I like camp. I have always liked camp. Not for the "make new friends" idea--I don't make many friends in the real world, nor do I keep in touch with the "friends" I make at camp. Nor for the activities, although those are a lot of fun.
I like the lack of mirrors.
I get a lot of funny looks when I say this in public. As JH told me, "But you're so pretty! Don't you like being pretty?" No, JH. I don't.
But I never say that.
The common conception today is that the good-looking girls have it easy--they can find boys more easily, become popular more easily, get a job more easily. And it's true, I admit. But that only helps you if those are your goals. I will never reach many of my goals, never experience some of my dreams, because I am pretty.
A pretty girl can't be a tomboy, can't have people accept her as anything other than a pretty girl. I have never needed a boy. Half the time I think I am a boy, at least in the way I dress and act. I always used to fit in nicely as "one of the guys". But it's strained now, a welcome worn thin. A more masculine-looking girl can get away with being one of the guys. A pretty girl can't. It's the little things, the way every eye flicks in your direction when watching a sex scene in a movie, the way every voice tells you not to spoil your angelic qualities by getting involved, the way no one even cares to arm wrestle any more unless he lets you win. It's the little things, the icebergs that go down deeper than the casual observer would notice.
A pretty girl can't play the Wicked Witch. Beauty isn't evil, at least not in America, God bless us. Not in our art forms, not in our day-to-day lives. The first thing any teenager will say upon hearing a juicy rumor about the school slut is, "Why? She's not even good-looking!" Never mind if she is. From now on, no one will notice it, because beauty can never be degraded.
A pretty girl can't complain about her looks. No matter if the above is true. No matter if she blissfully forgets the appearance of her own face between looks in the mirror. No matter if she really doesn't want a pretty face.
A pretty girl can't write this.
But a pretty girl did.
Because at camp, I cannot see my own face. Because at camp, there are no mirrors.
Which gives me a chance to reflect.
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