Dear Mr. Melissa Blake:
It’s a rainy June night in 2010. I’ve always found the rain so soothing, the way you can hear it trickle down your window in tiny droplets and make that little ping-ping sound on the roof as if a thousand tiny men were doing a jig or the polka right on top of your house.
I’m writing this from my Blackberry. I’m lying in bed. Oh wait, that sounds like the opening paragraphs of a Danielle Steel novel or one of those paperback novels with the steamy, should-be-censored cover depicting a virile man passionately embracing a woman; I shield my eyes every time I see one of those covers. No, really. You should see how embarrassed and red-faced I get.
OK, let me just catch my breath for a moment here. I certainly don’t want to give you any ideas with this whole lying-in-bed thing, Sweetpea. Although, I did just look to the other side of the bed – I usually sleep on the right side of the bed – that’ll come in handy for you after we’re married – and wondered what it would be like to have you lying next to me. To be able to reach out and just hold your hand, or what it would feel like to fall asleep in your arms as you tell me a funny story to make me laugh.
*cue dreamy, fantasy music*
Sorry, Sweetpea. I seemed to have drifted off their for a second again.
Anyway, did I ever tell you about the moment I had an epiphany of sorts? It was honestly an epiphany about the personality vs. looks debate that seems to be in a constant fight-to-the-death battle in my head. And more than that, said epiphany came from the most unlikely but nonetheless grateful of sources.
It probably seems like ages ago now wherever we are, but it actually just happened a few days ago from where I’m standing (no pun intended…) in 2010. And you know what? The realization came from an unlikely source: a male friend.
I was complaining to him about one of Anon’s stupid-don’t-even-make-sense comments when he put things in perspective with a simple sentence…
You have a really stellar personality and I know there is a guy out there that will be able to love and treasure that.
Honestly, I was sort of taken aback. Sure, this guy and I are friends, but I
didn’t think we were the sort of friends that got that personal, you know?
And it’s weird because had I heard this a few months ago, it would probably have infuriated me. I’ve always hated the “Oh, you have such a great personality” people use as an easy way to let you down. I always read it as code for “Well, you’re not pretty, so thank goodness you’ve got your personality going for you.” It’s like an insult wrapped in a compliment at the same time.
But this time, for some reason, his remark left me smiling for days. It was sweet, and even more than that, it was sincere. It was something I needed to hear, and it came at the most perfect time. I love my personality, and frankly, think it’s the most beautiful thing in the world. It’s funny how things work out sometimes, isn’t It, Sweetpea?
That’s when I realized: YES, you know what? I would much rather have a stellar personality than a beauty queen’s looks any day. I know I’m not the prettiest girl on the block outwardly speaking, but I would trade my awesome personality for anything. Because that, Sweetpea, is something that will never fade. It won’t wrinkle. It won’t sag. It won’t droop. It won’t ever lose its shine, luster or appeal. It won’t be sucked away with the ravages of time. And my personality will never require or want any sort of plastic surgery. Ever.
Isn’t a person’s personality really their soul and their beauty anyway? You may be able to change your looks, mold them into someone else’s vision of what you should be. Heck, you might even be able to make that person believe that’s who you really are. But your personality? You can’t keep up a fake persona forever. Sooner or later, your real self is going to come through. You can’t be someone else forever. You have to be yourself. And I don’t know about you, Sweetpea, but I would never change my exterior self because that would make me feel like I’m smothering me. I just won’t stand for that, and I know you won’t either. Right?
Just know that I’ll always be the real me – no additives or preservatives or creams or tucks or nips. You do the same, OK? Until we meet…