Ugly Duckling Syndrome

Today I wanted to take a deeper dive into my personal story about something I’ve always called ‘Ugly Duckling Syndrome’ – I thought this was an original term, I’ve since been informed that I may have heard it first on How I Met Your Mother.

Nonetheless: Ugly Duckling Syndrome, when a young woman was less attractive, or did not have a positive experience that allowed her to feel attractive young, so as she got older she continued to believe she was not pretty, even if everyone around her says she is.

I’ve had clinical acne since I was twelve years old, around 18 I started my first round of medication that really worked for more than a week or two at a time. I also learned how to do my make-up well enough to cover most blemishes and highlight my better features at this time. But I continued to believe that because I had acne, I was not very pretty. 

At 18, in college, I started getting attention from men, and that was really new for me. I had a boyfriend at this point, but I thought ‘J loves me for who I am, and I’m pretty enough.’ All of high school, I knew I wasn’t ugly, but acne and an overall lack of male attention had lead me to believe that I was only just ‘pretty enough.’ So when men started paying attention to me in this new social world, I was surprised, and often overwhelmed.

Through my freshman year of college, I was protected by men’s attention (for the most part) through simply speaking about my boyfriend at a different school a couple hundred miles away. But I still remember, the strong feelings of confusion when a junior expressed his very strong attraction to me. He never touched me, but I felt overwhelmingly guilty for his attraction to me, because in my mind, I wasn’t naturally an attractive woman, I must have done something, worn something, said something that caused this.

It was so hard for me to wrap my mind around someone’s interest in me, that I could not get up the courage to say ‘I’m not interested.’ My understanding of myself at that point was so limited that I’m not sure I knew I had a say. The boys I went on dates with before J (great guy, though in the end we weren't a great couple) were short and awkward or chubby and ginger (and creepy) but I thought that because these were the only men showing interest, then this is what I attracted.

It wasn’t until the end of my freshman year, I started to focus a lot on my outward appearance. I wore red lipstick every day, usually I was wearing tight pencil skirts and heels, and I had joined a sorority known for how impeccably dressed the members were. While I now believed that I was an attractive young woman due to the attention I was getting, I thought it was because of how much work I was putting into my appearance.

My college roommates could all tell you (heck even some of my college boyfriends could speak to) how I spent at least 2 hours every day showering with expensive products, using expensive lotions, blowing drying and straightening my hair, curling my bangs (it was a different time) and putting on a full face of make up every single day.

The more I went out, the more attention I received – now I realize that was probably because the more I went out, the more people I met and the less I was in my sorority bubble of girls that terrified men. It was also a numbers game – the more I went out, the more likely I was to meet more people who would pay attention to me.

This unfortunate obsession with appearance held fast until I would say one month into my study abroad in England. In one month, my US boyfriend and I had broken up because he was blatantly cheating on me back in the US, I made out with and fought with my acting partner, I got extremely drunk off three ciders and kissed a man much older than me in a pub, and I accidentally said I wasn’t wearing underwear. (Pants in the US and Pants in the UK mean different things and this can cause trouble for many young people from the States.)

In London, I started to gain a self-confidence that helped me to let go of a lot of my previous notions of attractiveness. I could not wear attractive clothing in my acting classes because I had to wear clothes that would ‘allow me to move’. Yet men in my acting class were still attracted to me. In Scotland, on a bet, I stuck my head in a freezing river, but I still got hit on within a couple hours of doing so, though my make up had washed off. It started to dawn on me that all the effort that I had been putting in for last couple years wasn’t why I was getting attention. And that was when my confidence in me as a person started to really blossom.

Now, at age 28, I know I’m attractive, though I don’t always feel attractive, especially not at mile 22 of a marathon, but I am confident in myself as person. Yes, I’m pretty, but I also have a fucking Master’s Degree in Theatre Dramaturgy and Criticism. If you don’t think that’s impressive, I’d love to hear your take on Greenblatt’s New Historicism as it relates to Shakespeare in performance in 1608 vs 2018. 

Yes I’m pretty, but I also run marathons.

Yes I know how to properly apply make up and tame my frizzy hair to be glossy straight, but I am so much more than that.

I am 28, and thanks to my new birth control implant, I have acne again, but it hasn’t affected my dating life. I have confidence in myself, I don’t need man to validate my appearance for me, and I think that’s the most attractive quality about me.

Now we just need to encourage our friends to stop saying ‘Just tell me I’m pretty.’ You are so much more than pretty, my friend.