“You have no idea what it’s like to be called beautiful all the time,” a good friend once remarked.
“It’s like your biggest accomplishment is something you didn’t do yourself.” She wasn’t being rude; I’m not beautiful in the traditional sense.
It might help explain, for example, why Pretty Woman actress Julia Roberts found the somewhat facially-challenged Lyle Lovett alluring enough to marry.
It's a speed-dating night, and Stan has ten minutes to woo and charm each of the ten women. For the past two years, Stan has been writing a hugely popular blog about his experiences looking for love.
My eye color isn’t interesting, and my hair is always feral.
I’m not ugly, but I don’t have much beauty privilege (and make no mistake, beauty privilege yields tangible rewards). “I don’t have to.” [Go ahead, ladies, make the first move.
Akin to a beauty contest scorecard, a person's attractiveness is ranked from one to 10.
And generally, it's presumed that the beautiful Amazons among us (the eights, nines, and 10s) should only date each other -- while the "uglies" of the bunch (the twos, threes, and fours) must stick to their own Quasimodo kind.