Wednesday, July 11, 2007

The things you do.

I am sitting here waiting for Mat to get off of work so that I can have my weekly hour long conversation with him, and while I am waiting, I am attempting to whiten my teeth. I am talking with a horrible lisp while the gunk sets on my teeth, and I just feel nasty, and why couldn't I have been born with gorgeous white teeth to begin with?

One of the only reasons why I am doing this is because I am scared that I won't meet Mat's friends' expectations when I meet them in August. Now, I love and trust Mat, and I know that he wouldn't break off of our engagement because of some yellowish teeth, but ... in my crazy mind he would. Also on the list to take care of before I leave include waxing my eyebrows (they are like a forest) and dousing my face in cleanser to get rid of the acne.

This is why I hate myspace. If it weren't for myspace, I wouldn't have just wasted an hour of my night clicking all around, seeing pictures of his ex-girlfriends and of his friends' girlfriends with their size 0 bodies and gorgeous, shiny model perfect hair. Today my hair actually captured a small woodland creature in my frizz halo before I could step in the door at work, and my clothing size has a 0 in it alright, but along with another number.

How do you maintain your self-esteem? Outside of a relationship I'm very confident. I think I'm hilarious. I'm intelligent. I'm caring. I'm knowledgeable. Before I start dating someone, I assume that every guy would be very lucky to have me. But as soon as he does, I freak out, and the next thing you know I've spent 2 hours glaring at my pores while my tongue burns from the teeth whitening cream, wondering how on earth I am going to convince his friends that I am worthy of him.

How do you convince yourself that you're worth moving across the country for? He is giving up so much to come here, can't the least I do for him is whiten my teeth? Why am I suddenly obsessed with my teeth? Oh my god, I'm crazy aren't I? Now I'm just rambling.

This blog post has no relevance. None. Not one bit. I just felt like I should type something, so this is what I'm typing about. Tomorrow maybe I'll discuss how insecure I felt while shaving my stubborn, thick leg hair with a man's razor.


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