Thursday, November 29, 2012


I remember standing in front of the mirror and looking at me, trying to figure out what especially is so ugly in me, if there's anything I could do, anything I could change... and I looked at my hair.
There are times I think my hair isn't quite that ugly. In fact, there are times when I think my hair is beautiful.
That time I was looking at it, and thought about how silky and shiny and pretty it looks... and I got furious. How dares my hair claim it's pretty, when it so obviously cannot be?! If it was, wouldn't people compliment it? Wouldn't people notice that there's at least SOMETHING pretty in me, so that I wouldn't need to compensate so much all the time for the lack of beauty?
So I took scissors, a handful of hair and cut it off. My husband realized something was wrong and rushed into the bathroom to find me having sheared half of my head.
I remember his expression, standing there at the doorway...
I promised I would never do anything like that again. Sure, I could cut my hair, have any hairdo I wanted, but not like that, not for that reason.

I don't have an official diagnose of having BDD. On the contrary. I have an official diagnose of NOT having BDD... which makes me ugly for real.

There are these people who joke about that.

I hoped I had hope. I hoped this is just something in my mind - I still do. I still hope they made a mistake, and in reality I'm not quite as ugly as I think I am. Or that there is something that can be done.

I can't afford any cosmetic surgery, and I wouldn't know what to fix. I mean... they can't do that much with cosmetic surgery, it really works only with big flaws, like cleft lip, missing nose, elephant man condition... not just general ugliness.

And... I don't think people should look alike. I don't think a big nose makes a person ugly. I think Barbra Streisand is quite beautiful, even though she has a big nose. Perhaps even because she has a big nose. She is different, special, unique, unforgettable, recognizable, herself, and therefore beautiful.

But - I don't know what makes me ugly. I just know I am ugly.

Well... I know what makes me ugly. Especially in this image, with that Hitler hairdo. Thin, greasy hair, cleft double chin, square face... I hate my smile, because I show my gums. Big nose, pouches under eyes - on a "good" day I have raccoon eyes. A lot of skin around my eyes making them look smaller, bushy eyebrows that grow together in the middle... monobrow might have been the prettiest thing on a Roman woman, but... it's not now. I hate those fat cheeks of mine... when the cheeks puff upp like that and create the crescent shadow under, that's called having a "tomcat cheeks". I really hate those puffy apples... And when I smile, I get a chin like Stan Laurel.
Uh. Ugly.
Or make-up. I have tried to learn to use it, but no matter what make-up I have, my eyes can't tolerate it. They will start tearing up and swollow, and how pretty is that?
Besides, I have had my make-up done by a professional make-up artist, and I looked even worse. As if the makeup just enhanced the ugliness...

Or that other time... my sister had a good friend who was a make-up artist. We sisters spend an afternoon with her, she talked about make-up and stuff, and then we got to do our own. And... I looked hideous.
This make-up artist didn't help me in any way, and neither did my sisters, and they allowed me to go home looking like that, and I remember trying not to cry openly, not to make my sisters feel bad, and I was really grateful of the fact that they lived on the Northern side of the town and I on the Southern side, so I didn't need to do that very long.
I have never felt that ugly in public.

It's like putting lipstick on a pig, or dressing up a monkey. Doesn't make it any prettier. On the contrary.

P.S. I tried to find out if there is an English expression to describe these cheeks like mine... and there isn't. But... apparently they are really desirable.

Sunday, November 25, 2012

Eccentric old lady

Yesterday I was internet stalking my obsession. Again.
Yes, I know I shouldn't.
I know it's just strengthening the obsession.
I know.

Or - at least it should have.

But this time it didn't.

Might be because I had been asking the RIGHT questions of "him" when discussing The Event. I wanted him to make it clear to me that a) in another situation he would have wanted me and b) I wouldn't want him. Really. At least, I wouldn't want to change my husband to him.

Well... last night I saw a photo that answered both those questions to me.

1) I'm very similar to his girlfriend. Except that I'm... well... better.
Besides, it doesn't matter what HE says, I would still believe he THINKS the way I think he does. If what he says doesn't match what I think, I'd believe he was lying.
So - better fix MY thoughts of myself.

2) I don't want his lifestyle.

How could I know his lifestyle of one picture?
I don't need to know if my preconceived notions of the story the picture tells are correct or not. All I need is to think that I don't want his lifestyle. I don't want to live the way he apparently wants to.
There's nothing wrong with his lifestyle, it just is not for me.
Now, I think he might be a bit more... uh. I'm not going there.
He has made his choice, I have made mine, we are both happy with our choices, and that's all there is to it.


So - I still want to travel. I'm really envious of Benny the Irish Polyglot and his social life - or the impression one gets - and I would like to travel and speak with all kinds of people. People ARE interesting and they all have a story - a lot of stories... and all that is really interesting.

And then I was thinking about what kind of impression I make.
A fat, middle-aged ugly lady with a weird sense of style?
Well... that's one way of looking at it.
Another is this:
This is Zoë Wanamaker playing Ariadne Oliver

This is Maggie Smith playing Augusta Bertram 

This is Angela Lansbury playing Emily Pollifax

Now, I'm not saying I'm Zoë, Maggie or Angela, nor that I'm Ariadne, Augusta or Emily.
But mrs. Oliver is an eccentric middle-aged lady, traveling alone, aunt Augusta is most definitely an eccentric elder lady - with no problems traveling alone and Mrs Pollifax... Well... she was an elderly lady traveling alone too, and not remarkable beautiful or so. 
Also, Zoë, Maggie and Angela are not especially beautiful in the classic manner, but they all... they are beautiful in their own way, amazing, wonderful women... 
I am in good company with these ladies as my role models :-D

Friday, November 23, 2012

I really hope I get this

I will NEVER get to do ANYTHING I need another person to do it with me.

I really hope I get that.

It means I have to give up some dreams. Losing the hope of ever getting those things hurts like hell.

But - there are others.

I can get fit and slender and agile.
I can learn to dance and martial arts and all that. It doesn't matter if I do it "right", because I'll never do it with someone else. It's just the idea of doing it, the feeling in your body when you do it... like flying... and for that I don't need to do it "right". No-one needs to ever see me and get horrified by how ugly I am doing it and how "wrong" I do it.

I can learn all those languages. And I can go out there and chat with people, and I don't need to care one bit if they even understand me, because they wouldn't. Then, maybe, if some of them did...

And I don't need someone to travel. I can save my little money, if I don't get more, and take the time it takes, I'll get there.

I can learn to sing.

Then some ranting, because I was at Pinterest, and spotted these two pins, and they made me furious.

"your family, your grandchildren"? How is that something for YOU to be proud of? And what about all of us who don't have children? Huh?

I would be proud of being size 4, after having been size 12 or bigger since I was... like... 17 or something. For me it would be an accomplishment. It would be because of hard work. (Though I don't want to be size 4. I'd like to be size 8.)

BTW, I do want to get slender and fit and agile because I think it's more beautiful than what I am now.
I hate my belly pouch. I hate my knees and the sacking skin. I hate my upper arms. I hate my double-chin. I hate my breasts. I hate my thighs, I hate my hips, I hate my thick neck. I hate my excess fat. I hate how they look, I hate how they feel and I hate how they make me feel.
I want to look at me in the mirror and like everything I see, and I know I like slender and fit more than fat and unfit. Ok, I have been brainwashed by the society when it comes to beauty. And?

But - how ever weird it might sound to you - I love my body. I love the fact that it's still doing what it's supposed to do, even after 25 years of abuse I've put it through. I love the feeling of dancing and walking and running and jumping and I love it how my body can do that.
I love my hands and I'm amazed by their ability to just rattle away touch typing, as they do right now... Amazing.
I love my eyes that see, nose that smells, mouth that tastes, ears that hear and skin that feels. Skin is such an amazing organ anyway... Just... wow...

I hate this. 
It's created by people who are anorectic, either with eating or exercising - or both, 
and trying to recover and "be sober".
I have full compassion and I wish they'll succeed, but -
I am not responsible for how you read my pins.
I don't need to think how someone else reacts on things I pin.
I am not supposed to either.
The rest of the world is not supposed to shelter you from your triggers.
YOU are supposed to do that.
And it would be hell lot better if you actually figured out what triggers you,
and learned to handle it.
I exercise to lose weight. 
I'm f-ing overweight, and diet and exercise is the ONLY healthy way to lose weight.
So, yes, I do exercise to burn calories.
I exercise to get nice muscles, so that I can do what I want to do. 
That they also look nice, even when they are not perfect, is a plus for me,
and a clear motivation.
I'm not exercising to get "perfect abs", because I can't. 
I won't ever be perfect or beautiful. 
But it's hell lot better to be slender and fit and ugly, than to be fat, unfit and ugly.
And, yeah, I would like liking more of the things I see in the mirror.
So that I don't need to... try to avoid mirrors on bad days, or try to avoid "bad spots", and stay focused on the "good" ones on good days. Or try to get away from the mirrors, or staring at myself for hours trying to figure out what's wrong with me, what's the thing that makes me ugly and that I could perhaps fix.
I exercise for two reasons - to become able to do all the things I want to do, like dance, and climb and jump and all that.
And because my lifestyle has made me sick, and it's killing me.
I NEED to lose weight and get fit to LIVE.
And I don't give a dime WHY I save my life.
Because YOU are not going to do it.
And, yes, I am obsessed by beauty. 
I have BDD for fuck's sake!
Yes, I know it's a mental disorder, meaning that I'm "sick".
I know my obsession is "sick" and my idea of what is beautiful is "sick" and my efforts to be beautiful are "sick".
It's a mental disorder just like anorexia nervosa or anorexia athletica.
How does shaming you for having it work for you?

Thursday, November 22, 2012

Every now and then I see something that makes me react... and this was one of them.

I have invited this guy into my life, my heart, my head, my marriage... he doesn't belong there. He doesn't want to be there. *I* don't want him to be there, and my husband certainly doesn't.

This was another one, from ugly girl problems. Hit so home...

Yes. It was silly of me to think that he would even notice me.
It is silly of me to think what I felt had anything to do with him.
It was so f-ing stupid to even think of him as a person, and not just as another organizer, coach, employment administrator.

But -  as my husband said "the obsession Ket is experiencing is actually a result of what they company did and did not do. a simple 'school-girl crush' (transference) turned into a complete obsession because it was not allowed to have a natural and respectful resolution."

Wednesday, November 21, 2012

What happened instead

"It is amazing, when we look back on what we thought we knew for absolutely sure that we wanted -- even things we grieved over because they never happened. It is amazing how blessed we were that those things never happened or because we never "got" the things we thought for sure that we wanted.

Think back, wonderful you. Think back and find those things. Think about what has happened INSTEAD. Think about where you are now, and what you have learned, and who you have become, and where you are headed, due largely in part to those things NOT happening that you were sure that wanted to happen."

Yeah... and how is it better?

I don't believe that there's The One, Mr. Right... I'm fully certain of that I would have made the best of the situation whom ever I was married to. So - not having the guys I wanted as my boyfriends... what has that given me? 
My husband is an amazing guy and I am very blessed to have him. It is quite possible that I would not have seen him, had I had a boyfriend, husband, had I dated anyone before him. But - if I had had a boyfriend, husband or previous romantic experiences, I'd probably wouldn't have missed not seeing him. 

And - even though I believe I have been good to my husband, and he might have ended killing himself several years ago, had I not seen him, and even though I think that's a good thing... 

Right now I don't know how saving him has changed the world, or will change the world.  

What I can see is the... 10 years of loneliness. 10 years of feeling worthless, 10 years of being rejected, shunned, bullied... 10 years of not being good enough, for anyone. No-one seeing anything worth having in me. 10+ years of building a lowsy self confidence and self worth.

"Kids with low self-esteem may not want to try new things and may speak negatively about themselves: "I'm stupid," "I'll never learn how to do this," or "What's the point? Nobody cares about me anyway." They may exhibit a low tolerance for frustration, giving up easily or waiting for somebody else to take over. They tend to be overly critical of and easily disappointed in themselves."

Yeah. That's me. Except, of course, I'm not stupid. I'm very intelligent. I can learn anything, be good at everything, I'm multitalented, amazing, brilliant... but I'm dumb. Naïve. Trusting, innocent, believing good of everyone and everything, overoptimistic, openminded, tolerant, loving and kind... with other words, an idiot.

You know what the funny part of this is? The world says over and over again, that being innocent, loving and kind, interested in people and the world, open and curious, childlike, is GOOD - but the world sure doesn't treat me that way. It treats me like the worthless idiot I am. 
They just see someone to take advantage of, and they do. And I am fully incapable to defend myself, or protect myself, or even prepare for the inevitable betrayal. Because I really, sincerely, honestly trust in everyone and believe the best of everyone... Even now, when I'm fighting the PTSD, feeling used and failed and rejected, when I scream to the people (in my mind. It's not that they'd bother even talking to me. They've got what they wanted. End of communication.) that I never should have trusted them, because they are untrustworthy, even now my first reaction to anyone is open interest and trust. I am an idiot. 

I'm highly intelligent, multitalented, there's nothing I can't learn, nothing I couldn't do with a little practice, and do well... and I'm good, kind and gentle... I'm brilliant and amazing.
And worthless. Nothing I am, nothing I can, is worth anything. The world just doesn't want me. 

That's what I got from not getting what I wanted when I was 10, 15, 20, 25...

I really don't understand how that is better than what I'd have if I actually had got what I wanted. 
I really can't see how anything could be worse.

Oh, yes. It could have been worse. Much worse.
I could have gotten pregnant when I was 14 with a guy who also gave me a disease that made my child severely handicapped and me infertile AND unable to ever have sex again. And then I could have ended up with a guy who beats me, and makes me feel ugly and worthless, and I could have suffered a major accident that made me unable to move, and just have to witness being abused and not being able to even speak... or witness my husband to molest my child and being unable to protect her/him... brrr...

That's one reason to why I am happy I don't have children. I'm sure I would have given them my Asperger's, so the poor kid would have been bullied and abused by the society just like I was, and I wouldn't be able to defend and protect him/her anyway. And I don't know if I could have given him/her the self esteem and information needed so that he/she could have protected and defended him/herself.

I am truly blessed by having the husband I have right now. He is... awesomeness :-D He is good and kind, he loves me, and he expresses that love with his words and body language and deeds every day in so many ways... he could write a book on how to love a woman. He could have written every decent love song, so every decent love song I hear is like him talking to me. And he's brilliant too. So amazing... 
Almost enough to compensate for the 10+ years. 

I should have been worth having both.

Sunday, November 18, 2012

Are Walloons Roman?

In the 17th century a group of Walloons immigrated to Sweden. These people were smiths and their families. Now a lot of Swedes claim Walloon blood.

My family - well... the forefather of my father's family - comes from Sweden.
As far as I know we are NOT Walloons, but... we could be.

And, sure, I could be one of these ladies. Roman ladies painted by different artists.

Henryk Siemiradzki 

 Jean Leon Gerome 

Mary Cassatt 

Henryk Siemiradzki

Anselm Feuerbach; Roman woman

William Holman Hunt

Her eyebrows run right from the edges of her cheekbones 
and almost meet above her eyes. 
And what eyes! 
They are brighter than stars sparkling in a moonless night. 
Her nose is slightly hooked 
and her little mouth as kissable as Praxiteles’ Diana.  
                                   - Satyricon
I just have red hair and green eyes... 
but some influence the 300 years of adding Finnish blood must have :-D
BTW, this is one hairdo for the 1000 days of hair. 
Which is a project I started. And that's it.
I'm good at starting things.

Anyway... I don't mind being Roman :-D Roman women are fabulous :-D

Oh, yes, so 3 it screams about it :-D Totally obsessed with looks, impression and beauty. *sigh*
I wish I could get rid of it.

On the other hand... I suppose there's benefits of that too.

Thursday, November 15, 2012

Dangers of internet stalking

"Willingness is so important. Do you think you could just try try try to be willing this week to take hear someone let something let things work themselves out..."

To let something be. Let him go. Not to try to find out what he's doing. Not to try to find out things about his girlfriend. Not to think about him. Not to send him text messages, emails, letters, postcards, not to call him, not to try to figure out what to do if I ever see him again... 
If we are meant to be together, we will be. God's will WILL be done. 
Not to beat the dead horse.

My whole adult life I have wanted to be beautiful. 
I have always believed if I just was beautiful, if I just was pretty enough, I'd get what I want. I have been watching girls called pretty get what I want, and me being without, me being bullied, called names... Always chosen last. Always passed by. Always waiting for my turn, and it never coming up. 
And now... it doesn't matter. Beauty is nothing. It doesn't mean anything. 
I didn't get what I wanted, because... 

I don't have the slightest idea. 

So... how will I get what I want?

Wednesday, November 14, 2012

Diary of a fool

I saw an episode of Shameless yesterday, and I couldn't stop watching...

Mo looks like this other woman I know. I find her fat, ugly, rude, mean and hard... I don't see anything attractive in her. But yet she has managed to get seven kids with Paddy#1, had "the other Paddy", and is now with husband #2, and had one night stands with some 8-10 men after Paddy#1 "as a way to keep herself feeling attractive"...

I watched the episode with a sick attention to her, unable to change the channel...
I didn't find her in any way, form or manner attractive.

I'm shocked.

It doesn't fit my understanding of the world at all.
What does she do?
What does she have I don't?

How can she even... how does she get men?
And knowing men... her husband/boyfriend probably thinks she IS beautiful.

I know, I know, I'm horribly shallow and fixated with beauty, but... this is... offensive.

How? How does she do it?
What in her makes men see her as "girl friend material"?

Yes, I find it extremely offensive that she gets men. All my life... as far as I know, no-one has wanted to have me. And I believe it must be because I'm ugly, disgusting, horrible... and then there's this woman, who IS ugly.
Someone wanted her enough to give her children.

It's so f-ing unfair.

My husband tries to comfort me by saying that the guys who fell in love with her probably appreciate the fact that she's not shallow pretty thing, but a strong woman, with personality.
That men are not that shallow.
That it's a good thing this woman gets men, because I should take it as proof of that I can be ugly as a troll, and still there's someone out there who will see through the shell and appreciate the inside. If she gets a man, so will I, when I don't have my husband anymore.

But to me it's... It means there's nothing I can do.
I mean... I can fix the fitness, I can fix the fat, I can fix my clothes, and do something about my looks, but... I can't create an attractive personality where there is none.

I'm screwed. 
I'll never get screwed, when my husband dies.
I'll die alone and get eaten by my cats.