All day people at work told me I looked great.
Someone asked if I was losing weight (yes, I’m still on a fucking liquid diet and pissed off about it, and don’t get me started on the weight loss crap), two people told me my hair looked fabulous (I rolled out of bed ten minutes before I was supposed to leave the house and didn’t get a shower, so I smelled bad to boot), and somebody else complimented me on my outfit (part of which included black shoes whose scuffs are noticeably covered up with black Sharpie marker). I also felt nauseous all day.
Maybe people were trying to make me feel better because I so obviously felt shitty. Or maybe I’m just dangerously fabulous when I don’t sleep, eat, or feel healthy. Who knows?
I vote for dangerously fabulous!
Rox, I love you.
Who doesn’t love Roxanne? Or Lauren?
(Yes, I am a kiss up. :) )
They tried to make you go to rehab and you said no, no, no!
When I was much younger and had the godawful eczema on the face issue, I found that it went away when my diet was horrific–think Doritos and coffee. People would tell me how great I looked, and I think it was mainly because the sunburnt lizard look had dissipated a bit.
Pretty much the only time I get told I’m attractive is while I’m sick, or just after, or when I’m depressed, and I have never really figured it out.
Consistently, all my life, when I go out looking and feeling like crap, people approach me. Men hit on me. Sometimes women hit on me.
The rest of the time, I’m “unapproachable/intimidating”.
I like to think of it as: I’m just so unbelievably fabulous when I feel good, that ONLY when I feel like shit am I down on a level where mundanes dare approach. ;)
You have the bohemian glamor of a drunk punk rocker, so the more you look like Courtney Love on a bender, the more attractive you are.
HAHA!
People are weird. When I was 18, I had mono, and lost a bunch of weight. You know, from the starving to death while sleeping 18 hours a day and feeling like I was on fire and not having the energy to even shower… When I finally felt well enough to move again, and went out, I felt like death warmed over, and the first thing people said was something along the lines of “Hey, you look great! Have you been working out?”
No.
I’m dying.
Shut the fuck up.
I still want pictures.
And I echo Roxanne.
Hardly a mystery since a review of fashion mags and models’ exploits reveals that people love a sickly, waifly looking woman. Says much about our culture I tell you.
When I was anorexic and participating heavily in the party life in my twenties and the ribs showed through my back, I was hit on continuously and complimented on my ‘healthy looks’. A healthy lifestyle has turned admiration to bitter distance from most.