HELP! Fuglies Won’t Stop Pretty-Shaming Me

Ollyy / (
Ollyy / (

As a result of the hard work of Feminists (like myself) everywhere, slut-shaming and fat-shaming have become household words. Strong and fierce Feminists have worked tirelessly and fiercely to make sure that fierce, fat women can freely feel fat & fabulous (even if they weigh about tree-fiddy), honor their big bones, and throw all the bogus “obesity is dangerous” Sue Doe Science in the trash where it belongs.

Slut-shaming has become really taboo cuz feminists have begun calling the shamers out a whole lot more. People seem to be afraid of being called rapists (something that slut-shamers definitely are), and this has made it easier for girls to participate in Latin-rhythm-themed gangbangs and do DP with large black men every Wednesday night at 9:30PM in college dorm rooms without getting labeled. One’s sexual activity never warrants a label. Never. You hear that, Ray Ray? You insinumanated that I was a slut by asking me if I was on the pill that night in the hot tub. Remember that? You fucking player!

Anyway, there’s one type of shaming doesn’t get enough attention in the media and magazines and…stuff, and that type happens to be very close to my heart. I’m talking, of course, about pretty-shaming.

We all know that beauty is like in the eye of the beholder. Feminists recognize that beauty is totally a social construct made up by the Patriarchy and if you don’t agree you’re a bigot. Taking control of what is seen as beautiful has been easy for the Patriarchy as they control the mainstream media, Hollywood, and the banks.

In fact, the higher-ups in the Patriarchy are probably standing around a bar putting their mitts on women, greedily ordering VOSS for themselves—or maybe Apple juice—right this moment, celebrating making women feel bad about our looks for centuries.

Anyway the point is, that if we were to be bombarded with pictures of Rosie O’Donnell in fashion magazines instead of the women we see today, she would be seen as the hottest, most beautiful woman on Earth. Beauty is all about what’s in the magazines currently. Nothing. Fucking. Else.

But I’m like a natural beauty. Like one of a kind. Like if you had met me you’d know that I am like really pretty and I mean REALLY pretty.

My hair is silky-smooth and dirt-blonde (so I don’t have that “swarthy goblin”-look that all dark-haired women tend to have). I’m tall, like model tall, 5’8” with long legs, so I don’t give off that “stumpy” impression that women shorter than 5’7” like so often do. My eyes are big and bluish so I don’t look like a gingerbread man with chocolate chips just sloppily pushed into a kind of facial-dough, you know, like women with dull, dark eyes do. I’m on the right side of a hundred pounds and I can eat anything and not gain weight, lol, literally anything, #Cinnaboneveryday, #WhippedCreamforbreakfast #YO-HO-LO-HO, so yeah, I can’t relate to #YesAllHippos like women over 100 pounds can. My skin is light and virtuous and my cheeks are rosy and radiant—I see so many women who look like they have jaundice nowadays, particularly Asian women. I have an hourglass figure so I don’t look like my mother was an alcoholic crackpot with leprosy and negative 14 teeth when I was in her tummy—like all women with other body types do.

Being this pretty makes me an easy target for pretty-shaming. Other women are like, really intimidated by me, and are really bitchy behind my back. Even though I am a kind, sweet-hearted, and modest girl, uggos seem to dislike me, like, so much. It must be cuz I’m angelically pretty, it’s the only possible reason. I always see all these little dark, swarthy trolls and she-orcs #lolfantasygeek hobbling about campus looking up at me with hatred, sometimes I throw them a little something, a piece of bread or nickels, but they just scurry away. When I go to parties, like, all the Fraggles tighten their grip on their boyfriend’s hand cuz they know I could steal them if I wanted to LOL. Sometimes I do, just for the fun of it.

I really should be treated like everyone else; underneath my prettiness is like a normal girl (still pretty though) who just wants to be treated like a human being (well, obviously better than a Fugly, cuz I’m pretty, but without the shaming part). We’re all equal in the end, it doesn’t matter if you’re red, black, yellow, or normal, so why would you shame me for my Goddess good looks, you Ugly Bitches! Thought Catalog Logo Mark

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