In which we discover how much difference 24 hours can make

Last night, I was convinced that I was absolutely ugly. That it was hopeless. That no one could like me. That I would forever be alone because I'm not "regulation hottie" (as Janis on "Mean Girls" described it) so the world of Plastics (also from "Mean Girls") could never accept me. To be good enough for Plastics (aka Mean Girls), you have to be drop-dead gorgeous. You have to be hopelessly attached to your lip gloss and your weight loss aids. The world is full of Plastics. Everywhere you turn, you meet a Plastic. They take on different forms, and some of them aren't as bad as others. But in the end, every girl has a Code. And always, ALWAYS, they exclude SOMEONE.

I'm not Plastic material. I realize that like me, everyone else has feelings. Everyone else is sensitive to something. Everyone has their quirks -- but that's what makes the world a beautiful place. Like the dcTalk song says, the beauty of a bouquet of flowers is the different colors. The world would be very dull if everyone was the same.

In the end, what you look like and how pretty you are doesn't matter. It's how you treat others. It's about how you influenced those around you. It's about whether or not you treat those around you with dignity and respect.

Deep down inside, everyone wants to be wanted. I realize all those things I said above, but way down deep inside, I want to be wanted. And I realize that for the average American, the average Plastic, it doesn't matter what kind of person you are. It only matters what you look like. And on the contrary, for the Plastics, the more horribly you treat those around you, the better. Those two factors are my undoing.

Or so I thought.

I had a day off for a change. I woke up this morning and I threw off my Customer Service mentality along with my uniform, my cutsey little nametag and hairnet and my awful updo. I dressed like a normal, every day girl. I put on my makeup -- after my third try (not so good at that -- I don't do it too often) I got to the point where I felt like maybe I might be pretty enough for the average Plastic to treat me with at least a LITTLE dignity. I went about my day like a normal person would. And guess what -- it wasn't too bad. Yay!

I went to work to talk to Sylvie, and Blaine and Gregory kept telling me how beautiful I was and how cute and sweet I am, and they reminded me that even though my parents don't care, I have tons of other people who DO care. I received "Beauty tips from Gregory" -- which was rather strange for me -- and he and Blaine asked me if I liked Petra and Jars of Clay. (My bakers are on the up-and-up with Christian music? That's scary! Apparently, Greg used to listen to Petra and Blaine listened to Jars of Clay at one time.) After that, I went shopping. My mother wanted to go to VW Hornbacher's. That is something I will never, ever understand. VW is EVIL. (I can say that -- I worked there for about a month and it was the worst 4 week period of my entire life.) What made it even stranger today was that when we were in the check out line, the bagger dude was totally checking me out. I know this because we were the only people in the line and our stuff had already been bagged, but he walked over and stood there looking at me. I played it cool and just walked away like any Plastic would (Bad, bad me!), pretending like I never noticed. It was freakish -- but kinda cool too. Maybe it was just one of those things. I felt so ugly yesterday, and I wasn't too convinced when Blaine and Gregory were talking to me, because they seem to hit on EVERY girl they see. (I must admit that their noticing my makeup was unusual though.) I think the bagger dude was there to show that maybe, just maybe, you don't have to be Plastic to be considered pretty or worthy. Maybe . . .
~MK