Gwen's blog

Current Events

January 28, Houston: The book launch party for Lone Star Legend is at Brazos Bookstore, at 7 PM. Y'all are all invited!

February 4, Houston: I'll be reading/signing at the downtown Houston Public Library, at 6 PM.

February 5, Austin: I'll be reading/signing at BookPeople and will undoubtedly stop by the FlipHappy crepe trailer some time after that.

February 5, San Antonio: I'll be reading/signing at the San Pedro Barnes and Noble and will probably buy some coconut candy at Mi Tierra, too.

My other blog: Go read my the Houston Chronicle parenting blog (or my ChronMomBlog, as I like to call it) and find out what I've said to piss off the more conservative commenters this week.

Buy my new novel, Lone Star Legend.

Thursday, July 01, 2004
The Thoughts I Just Got Finished Having

Forget that stuff I said about only sleeping with guys who're in love with me. I don't care about that anymore - especially if I'm not planning to be in love with them. Now the thing I'd enjoy is to sleep with guys who either a) love me or b) think I'm hot or c) (preferably) both.

Lately I realize, over and over again, that the most important thing - the ONLY thing - I can do is love myself. No, I don't mean masturbate. (Although sometimes that's encompassed by the concept I'm about to relate.) I mean to take care of myself the way the best boyfriend in the world would take care of me in my fantasies. I mean that when my feet are cold, I will put on socks. I mean that when my legs are cold, I will put on sweatpants. When I'm cold on the couch, it's okay to get a blanket. When I don't feel like going out, it's okay to call the people and say "I don't feel like going out," or even to not call them - just flake on them. Just turn off the phone. (As long as you're not rude about it.) It's okay.

To quit being so stoic all the time and tough on myself. To wear what I want to wear, whether I think it'll look pretty to someone else or not.

And that's the other thing. The prettiness and the worrying about it. God, yes, it's important to me to be pretty. I never tried to deny that fact (only to hide it). But Tad (my ex bfriend) says I'm obsessed with it now, that it's all I ever talk about. But I say I only talk about it to him, because I want him to know that other men find me pretty, because I never thought Tad thought I was pretty enough, and maybe that's why we broke up. (And Tad says no, that's not it, but he did find it annoying that I analyze shit like this to death, so insecurely and neurotically - that that could get really old after a while. And he's right. I can't blame him for feeling that way. But that's a whole other issue. I'll cure myself of that in my own good time.) So the real problem is not that Tad did or didn't think I was pretty, or that Julio or Roger or Sigmund do or don't. The problem is that I give a fuck, as if "men thinking you're pretty" = "love". When I already know it doesn't. God, it totally doesn't. But is it the first step? Or what? Or can I not be loved without the prettiness?

But all that aside (Christ - ALL women worry about being pretty - society MAKES us), why do I need to be loved? Should I blame my parents? Did they not love me enough? And, if that's the case, can I expect them to do anything about it now? Maybe they loved me as much as they could, and maybe that was or wasn't "enough". And maybe some day I could meet the "right" person who would love me "enough", for the "right" reasons, and that could make me happy.

But what if I never do? And, what if, as I'm always telling my mom when she goes on and on and ON about her worries that my dad and other men don't find her pretty... what if some day I am (or my mom is) in a car wreck that not only severs all four limbs but also totally destroys my (or her) face? And there's no fucking way I can ever, under conventional standards, be pretty again? Will I still love myself then? I think my mom would probably kill herself. And that makes me sad, and it makes me mad, too, because she's the one who set the example for me. (And I know she's mentally ill now and so you might think it's mean of me to discuss her neuroses like this - but, fuck it, mentally ill people are people, too, so I'll criticize them just like I'd do anyone else.)

I like to think that I'm a lovable person, even with no limbs and a burned-up face. I like to think that I'm smart enough, witty enough, kind enough, and gosh darn it, people like me, that my life would still be worth living. (Shh - let's not talk about what would happen if I lost my mental facilities or became a vegetable. That hypothetical situation doesn't serve my current purpose.) So I like to think that I'd still be a lovable person...

And if that's the case, then why wouldn't I always love myself?

My legs were cold so I forced myself to put on socks and pants because, god damn it, I'm the only one here, and I have to be my own perfect boyfriend. And I will, because I'm worth it.

I have an old picture of myself as a teen. In it, I'm getting ready for a show. I have no makeup on, my hair is sticking up straight, I have an unflattering shiny beige unitard on, cranky facial expression, and the lighting isn't good. When people see that picture in my photo album, they say, "Gah! What an unflattering picture of an otherwise sexy/pretty/not-fat teen!" But I've always loved that picture, because it looks just like me. And I like me.

Some day I will cure myself of this supreme insecurity and neurosis and tendency to over-analyze things. I'll do it so that life is easier for ME, and only incidentally will it make things easier for future boyfriends who may or may not exist.

But in the meantime, whether I ever cure myself or not (I might be too busy with the writing thing and the day jobs), I'm still going to love myself better than anyone else does. Even if I have to remind myself to do it every freaking day.

And that is fucking enough. That's all I'm ever gonna need, isn't it? Yes.
 

8:04 PM #

Comments:

 I totally understand the need to be pretty, and the need to be loved is pretty much universal. One thing that I hope will cheer you up: your readers neither know nor care how pretty you are...we love you because of what a kind, witty, intelligent person you are. You are good enough, you are smart enough, and a hell of a lot of people really do like you.


# posted by Anonymous Anonymous : 10:05 PM  

 Yes, we do, sweetness!
~Anne A.


# posted by Anonymous Anonymous : 10:32 PM  

 Damn straight, Gwen, that's all you really need. Hey, I'm sorry I missed your last show especially since you promised me the Toadies story (finally!), but I'm definitely going to make the BIG one later this year. (I realize I should've just emailed you that, but that would've taken extra effort that I just don't have right now. You understand, right?)


# posted by Blogger Natalie : 10:46 PM  

 oh man, your mom is mentally ill too? what do you do? how do you handle it? what happens when the person who is supposed to be your role model is barely functional?

wait... that's not what I meant to post. Um, hi Gwen. de-lurking here.

-nik


# posted by Blogger nik : 12:15 AM  

 This post has been removed by a blog administrator.


# posted by Anonymous Anonymous : 12:19 AM  

 This post has been removed by a blog administrator.


# posted by Blogger Michael : 12:42 AM  

 Holy CHRIST, Gwen. It's a revelation. Hallelujah! That's right, it doesn't matter if your FACE GETS BURNED OFF. No, they'll love you anyway. Of course, they won't kiss you, not in a million years, but your words will still mean something. Thank the lord for the little things.

Had to get that off my chest before more generic comments. I haven't read all of this blog, but I have read everything on this page...and based on that, I'll certainly give your book a shot.

Congrats, by the way, from a fellow wordy-person still trapped in unpublished obscurity. Keep up the good work.

Oh, and my humblest apologies to the anonymous person listed above. No offence intended, I just couldn't help myself. I was compelled by forces beyond my ken.


# posted by Blogger Michael : 12:43 AM  

 Thanks, y'all.

Nik: It's easy. You handle it by becoming a writer!

Michael: That's the power of being a published writer - people love you when your face gets burned off. Purchase my book for details.

(And thanks for checking out the site.)

Natalie: If you go to the show, I'll tell the story on the microphone. Or maybe I'll tell it here, today, at work. Because it needs to be told before it's too late. My fantasy is that I tell it at the show - and Todd's in the audience to hear it. That would be awesome.
(We're talking about how Todd from the Toadies was rude to me when I met him a few years ago, y'all.)


# posted by Blogger Gwen : 7:00 AM  

 Well, if you did lose all your limbs, you'd go on Katie Couric's show, promoting your new book about your brave struggle to live and write without hands (I can see you now, typing away bravely at your keyboard with a pencil in your teeth), and then your book sales would soar! So there's always that.

I completely understand the pretty thing. I live in the Land of Tiny Beautiful Brunettes Who Dress More Fashionably Than You up here in NYC. I feel like a fashion-impaired linebacker walking down the street around here...I'm not that big, but they are so damn tiny. I'm afraid I might accidentally crush one of them some day as they teeter along in their pointy-toed high heels. It makes feel nervous and grotesque, not pretty at all.


# posted by Blogger emjaybee : 8:37 AM  

 I am working on this, too. I've made a lot of strides, to the point where I feel very secure being alone. Even enjoy it. Maybe too much. But I still get lonely sometimes, too, and the neuroses and can be so irritatingly overpowering. Like, I have these thoughts, and I KNOW they are totally ridiculous, BUT I JUST CAN'T STOP THINKING THEM.


# posted by Blogger The Girl : 8:47 AM  

 What you are feeling seems to be the norm with the majority of women and the ones who don't admit it are lying about it. We live in a society that places to much emphasis on the outer shell of a person. Hell, we've seen what that has done in history and the horror that it has caused.

How to get out of it? I'm still working on it myself. I understand completely how you feel. But again, what to do about it. How does one fix their own mind to stop thinking about such things?

Maybe we should just stop comparing ourselves to others. I mean, there will always be someone better looking than us and always someone who is not as fornutate to look as great as we do. I think that is the very first step in overcoming the obsession with ones looks. Stop Comparing yourself. We are all unique, we all look different and thank God for the variety.

To say something is more beautiful than something else one has just made the lesser ugly when all one had to do was see the beauty in both by recgonizing the differences. Both are beautiful in their own way. When you compare, you are making the judgement that something is better than the other.

Stop comparing yourself and just begin loving yourself unconditionally. Once you accomplish this, you will feel free.

Hope that makes sense. I confuse myself sometimes as you can tell.


# posted by Anonymous Anonymous : 11:44 AM  

 "Sometimes it seems like we're all living in some kind of prison, and the crime is how much we all hate ourselves. It's good to get really dressed
up once in a while and admit the truth -- that when you really look closely, people are so strange and so complicated that they're actually beautiful. Possibly even me."
--Angela Chase, My So-Called Life

I loved that show. It was so REAL. When I'm feeling gross and unattractive I think of that quote from Angela on My So-Called Life.


# posted by Blogger MissCathee : 1:35 PM  

 It sucks that girls have to worry about the pretty. I know I do it, and I don't even care that much (or at least I tell myself and others that)!


# posted by Blogger DeAnn : 1:06 PM  

 I loved this post - my first visit to your blog (from Gooch via Right-Brained). I do the same thing - I overanalyze every single thing. It drives my family crazy. I like this about myself, but it is rare to find a man who likes having everything he does and says picked apart. :)


# posted by Blogger lucidkim : 5:30 PM  

 http://www.danah.org/Ani/NotAPrettyGirl/NotAPrettyGirl.html

you're no damsel in distress, either!


# posted by Anonymous Anonymous : 12:16 PM  

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