I was told as a child that I was ugly, and it was said so forcefully, so frequently, and with such conviction that I still believe it. I was told that I was ugly in conjunction with being fat, so every time I feel ugly, I’m aware of how fat I am. But I have fat friends who have a lot more sexual experience. They get to feel beautiful. But I grew up, not so much unconcerned with my appearance, but thinking that if I wasn’t going to be beautiful, I could at least be unremarkable. So I hate it when people comment on my appearance.
I hate compliments. I think it’s because I can’t internalize them, but it’s also because I care so little about what I look like. I compliment other people on what they look like because i know that stuff is important to them, but I don’t actually care what anyone looks like. What someone looks like has never affected how much I like them for longer than a 20-minute conversation. That’s how long it takes for them to either become a person I like, or a person to avoid.
Someone commented on my shirt tonight. So now I can never wear it again. Because someone noticed it.