Regular Poem: Conspiracy

17 Jun

It just kind of
feels like a
conspiracy,
you know?

Like way back
in the BFE of my brain
there’s this
little B&B,
and there’s this
little part of me
that’s the lodger
about to go mad
waiting for the shoe in the
room above her to drop,

and then it will be confirmed
that I am,
in actuality,
an ugly girl–
like that d-bag
in 7th grade
said.

I realized recently
I haven’t been denigrated
for my looks
since then.

I’ve been called a lot of stuff
since then–
true stuff, untrue stuff,
subjective stuff–
expletives and superlatives–
just stuff,
like everybody, I’m sure.

I went through a long
frumpy stage.
I got called ugly only that one time, though.

It–
the whole situation–
the whole ugly situation–
amazes me
for several reasons:

Number one:  I sometimes become
arrested
by people’s looks.  Like
I have a mental grappling hook
I keep handy so I can pull myself out
before society deems me unfit
on account of staring.

I just
like to look
at people and admire freckles and
gaze at bizarre tattoos and
analyze facial hair and
get lost in someone’s teeth.

But I’m not sure
I’ve ever really thought
someone was ugly before
I knew that person’s personality.
It confuses me
when people don’t see people
as people with stories and souls
but as some kind of livestock
either to be given a ribbon or
to be disqualified at the county fair.

Number two: Isn’t beauty subjective
anyway?
Someone thinks Honey Boo Boo’s mom
is gorgeous
probably.
I don’t have a problem looking at her.
She’s just a weird lady to me.
But some people are actually
repulsed
by her.
But she has a boyfriend.
And I’ve read that she’s actually
very kind and compassionate.
I mean,
there are statistics about
facial symmetry
or whatever.
But I just have never been

repulsed
by someone.
There was a guy
who always used to come in to the gym
who had all these burn scars–
like no hair and stuff,
and I wanted to stare
at his veins peaking under the surface of his taut skin
and his shapely muscles
and his interesting head shape,
but I knew it would be rude
because he’d think I was staring
because I was grossed out or something,
but I wasn’t.
I wanted to look at him
because I wanted to look at him–
the same reason I want to look at
the Evil Queen.
I just want to look at her.
Sue me.

Number 3:  You always hear
about people being branded,
typcast in their own lives.
They either internalize
the thing,
or everyone sees them as
the thing,
and they are
the thing
forever.

As far as I recall, it was
just that one incident.
I think that’s why it stuck with me.
So are there
secretly hoards of folks
waiting to drop that other shoe
only they haven’t because of
politeness
or more likely
other things I’ve been called
have deterred them–
things that are much truer
(because as I’ve discussed,
I don’t actually think ugly exists–
not in the terms people use it usually,
anyway)?
Am I actually supposed to be
living the life of an “ugly girl”?
And what does that life look like?
I know only what I watch in movies,
so I guess
it means I’ll be alone
eating pizza and reading?
Ye gads!

I’ve been doing that all along!
But people keep
telling me I’m
pretty, and
even if they didn’t,
I like doing that,
and I 100 percent would not stop
just so some dreamboat could tell me
to take off my glasses
and fluff my hair
so he could take me to prom to
win a bet
or whatever.

Number 4: What’s even the point
of calling someone ugly?
Like, calling someone fat, I guess
you could expect the person to diet
or something?  I mean, if
you’re a body-policing asshole, I guess.
That’s about 75 percent as ludicrous
as calling someone ugly
(but 100 percent as mean).
Because what’s a person supposed to do
about being ugly, exactly?
Just put on some make up or something?
Get plastic surgery?
What’s a person supposed to do
about being fat?
It’s like when your boss
tells you you’re bad at your job,
but then doesn’t tell you any way to be
better
at your job,
and you just have to
stand there and take it
because the explanation of
why
you’re bad at your job
doesn’t make any sense.
But at least
it’s your boss’s job
to critique your job.
But why is it any of your
d-bag business whether a person is
ugly or fat?
Surely it’s
not offending you to just
see
a person
who doesn’t look how you want
that person to look?

Sure, I’ve insulted people
to feel better about myself.
I’ll try anything
once.
But it made me feel worse.
I’d sooner try pot again,
and if you know anything about me,
you know I hate cottonmouth and paranoia–
but not as much as I hate
guilt and shame and dishonor.

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One Response to “Regular Poem: Conspiracy”

  1. Silver Screenings 18 June 2014 at 7:13 PM #

    I like to look at people, too, which is sometimes misinterpreted as:
    A) being “Interested”
    B) being judgmental
    C) being weird
    I’m afraid to say it’s a bad habit with me.
    But I know what you mean. Some people are study-able, for whatever reason.

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