I'm not ugly.
I know that.
Still, it is the absolute truth to say that pretty girls intimidate me. I remember one undiscovered supermodel, in particular. I was assigned to be her visiting teacher. Poor chick. I took one look at that 5'11" blonde Rosalie with perfect white teeth and turned into a sweaty thirteen year old boy. I couldn't talk to her. I believe I left her three or four messages over the next few weeks, effectively alleviating my guilt, and then I moved.
Poor, poor chick.
I found out later that she was thoroughly depressed during the year she spent in our ward. Everyone was scared of her. No one talked to her. I was told she didn't go on a single date in high school - not even prom. She was just too dang gorgeous.
(I hope none of my kids are THAT good-lookin'.)
My new ward here in Arizona has got something going on in its water. Not only is everyone pregnant (I think the count is up to twelve?), but they're all a size 2 or 4, and fashion models. They, like, ACCESSORIZE. I own three necklaces. Two belts. One purse. Oh, and did I mention blinding beauty? BLINDING. I wear sunglasses to Relief Society.
(Totally lame joke. Feel free to ignore.)
But you know what? These blinding beauties are TOTALLY NORMAL. They struggle with screaming toddlers and wayward loved ones and outrageous bills and sweating in abnormal places. They're just like me.
And it makes me feel PROUD to be their friend. Because the #1 ingredient to friendship is love. And love? Envieth not. And is kind. And maybe - maybe - is just a little proud of another's talents. (Or good looks, as the case may be.)
And I'm suddenly very glad that I'm growing up. Pretty girls have ceased to terrify me - I now see them as potential bosom buddies.
Maturity does have its good points.
More friends, for one thing.