somewhere between awkward and pretty

We all know the story “The Ugly Duckling.” Said duckling is physically and verbally abused because he’s homely. Then, said duckling matures into a beautiful swan and lives happily ever after.

This is not quite that same story.

I was an awkward kid growing up. I was never fully comfortable with myself, and the fact that I rarely spoke didn’t help much either. All through middle school and high school, I was the nice, quiet and super nerdy choir geek. It should go without saying that I never dated, was asked to homecoming or prom, or had a date to Sadie Hawkins. I was never the pretty girl.

However, this semester, thus far, has been a strange one for me. I may be maturing into a figurative swan…kind of.

Two weeks ago, I was out protesting the budget and lecturer cuts in front of Stevenson. While making a food run at the Pub, some fellow STAR staffers and I jacked a bunch of forks for the STAR lab. I volunteered to take said stolen forks to the lab.

Before I continue any further, let me paint a picture for you: I’m wearing leather biker boots, a cut-off, off-the-shoulder STAR shirt, a red makeshift bandanna around my head and I’m holding a shit ton of plastics forks. I’m obviously not dressed to impress.

So as I’m walking, some guy on a bike whizzes past me and almost hits me. He says, “Excuse me.”
I say, “Sorry.” He looks back and says, “No problem.”

Then, he stops. And then he stops me. And then he asks me, “Has anybody told you that you are very cute?”

…Um.

I politely smile and say thank you, then keep walking toward the lab. And he starts walking with me.

…Um.

He introduces himself and asks for my name. I tell him and politely shake his hand. He goes off on some tangent of, “Beautiful name, but that’s probably because it’s associated with you blah blah blah.”

And he’s still following me to the lab. Awkward silence follows.

When I finally reach the STAR lab, it happens:

“So Becca, can I have your number?”

…Um.

I was honestly speechless for a moment. This guy, who was apparently serious- not that attractive, but serious- was actually asking me for my number. I told him I don’t give my number out- I wasn’t completely lying. I don’t give my number out to random, semi-strange guys, but I didn’t have the heart to tell him that.

Then, this past weekend, I had yet another awkward encounter- this time, with a friend who I thought was just a friend who has, in the past, has made his respect for me known. Everything was all fine and dandy, until he unexpectedly kissed me and confessed that his respect and admiration for me is greater than I originally thought. And while this may not sound like an issue, let’s just say that there’s a huge conflict of interest for me.

These two instances, along with the “great thing” that I mentioned in my last post, have forced me to look at myself and wonder: how can these people like me when I don’t even like myself?

I don’t have the greatest self-confidence. Scratch that, I have terrible self-confidence. Everyone says you are your own worst critic, but I rip myself to shreds- I acknowledge every single flaw and compare myself to every smaller, thinner, blonder, tanner and more conventionally beautiful girl that I see. Being a part of Greek life, I see a lot of those girls.

Now, relating this whole thing back to the beginning of this post: I don’t consider myself a swan, physically or figuratively. Maybe I’m halfway there, in that molting stage where the duckling loses its grey downy feathers and grows these beautiful, sleek white feathers. Or maybe I’m already a swan, just wearing a downy feather dress. I don’t know.

My childhood awkwardness still shines through, years after I thought I had overcome it, and maybe it will always just be a part of me. And it’s those parts of myself that maybe I should just learn to accept because, apparently, they’re working in my favor now.