I think I may be ugly. I am on one of those dating sites and, please rest assured, that I picked the hippest one I could find, the only one that seemed a little irreverent, a bit less drastic and sad than the others. But, although I have added people to my hot list, no one has added me to theirs since August. I think it's because I'm ugly. Not Elephant Man ugly, or Joan Rivers ugly, but like uninteresting ugly, the kind of person who you wouldn't notice walking down the street, the kind of person who doesn't make waves, doesn't stir emotions. I always wanted to be Rita Hayworth when I grew up. I think instead I'm Maude.
When I think of the men -- and women -- that I've hooked up with in my life, it makes it even harder for me to accept the nothing I have evolved into. I used to be fabulous. Well, if not fabulous at least attractive. Beautiful men have slept with me. Beautiful men, with great big penises and sexy accents, and they came onto me first. But you would never believe it to look at me.
All the chocolate I ate today didn't do much for my feeling of self worth. Try again tomorrow.
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