On Thursday night I stopped at the grocery store on my way home from work, how is this blog worthy you ask, well I’ll tell you. I was hit on. By an actual man, a good looking foreign man, he was Italian, loved the accent. At first I didn’t know what was going on, it’s literally been a lot of years since I was hit on. It was when he tried to slip me his number that I realized what was happening.
I was of course flattered, it made me feel attractive, something I haven’t felt in a long time, as much as I talk a good game, I do in fact own a mirror. I know what I actually look like and I know that I am not what men want in a woman. I am not super model pretty, I am not a size 2, I am old. All of these things work against me, but that night I felt attractive so I will take it.
I have never been the type of woman that gets a lot of attention from the opposite sex, they seem not to notice me, I am for all purposes invisible.
I am ordinary in a sea of extraordinary, North Texas is filled with amazingly beautiful women, thin, gorgeous women, it is a bit intimidating at times. I don’t have a complex regarding this, as I said I know what I look like, I have no illusions that I will ever be beautiful or even pretty. I don’t have the money for that amount of plastic surgery. I will be forever grateful I did not pass on my genetics to my daughter.
She is a truly beautiful human, somehow her father’s and my genetics created three gorgeous creatures. I am so happy she doesn’t have to go through life looking like me. That she will never know what it is like to be unattractive and undesirable on all levels.
One brief moment, on a Thursday night, I got to feel attractive, it was nice.

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