Secrets.

If you're anything like me, you can't wait for Sunday morning so you can read the new Post Secret. Every Sunday, I try to think what secret I might send in - usually fruitlessly, because I really don't have any secrets. I mean, there are things about me that not a lot of people know, like the fact that I love Hershey's Kisses and I pick my fingernails till they bleed, but those aren't secrets. They're just things I don't really talk about, because that would be stupid. Plus, there really isn't any way I could fill an entire blog post talking about picking my fingernails. (I could point you here though, which pretty much explains this compulsion.)

This week, though, I figured out my secret. And I'm a little ashamed of it, to be honest, because it's the kind of thing that's uncomfortable to think about.

My secret is this:

Whenever someone tells me I am pretty, I think they are only saying that because they feel bad that I'm so ugly.

You can understand why this is hard to think about. I know I am not a physically attractive person, but I thought I was okay with that. I really don't mind being chubby and having the face I have. I never wear makeup and I wear the clothes I like - I don't try to find clothes that make me look thinner, for example.

I don't think I'm okay with it though.

Yesterday, the kids saw this picture, and insisted it was me. They were so insistent that I had to ask them to walk away, because it hurt my feelings. Now, I'm not saying this woman is ugly. She's in jail, so I bet she's having a very bad day, which would explain the scowl. Probably when she smiles, it lights her whole face up and she's just a ray of sunshine.

But what I am saying is, it kind of sucks for your children to confuse you with a 50-something obese redneck woman who went to jail for hitting a guy with raw steak.

I think what makes me most uncomfortable is not the fact that I'm ugly. It's the fact that it bothers me that I'm ugly. I'm always thinking how awesome I am because I know my own self worth and I'm comfortable with who I am. I'm always thinking how much better I am than everyone else, simply because I am in a place where looks don't matter. That has to be like, one thousandth of the way to Nibbana. And it makes me feel weird to know that it's not really true.

The only people who ever really say anything to me about my looks are people on the internet. They'll say things like, "Oh, you're so cute with your baby," or, you know, random crap like that. I don't get hit on much online, because everyone knows I'm happily married. No one in real life ever tells me I look nice, not even my kids.

I guess that's all I want for the holiday - to feel pretty. For just one person to tell me how pretty I am, and really mean it.

(Oh, and a canister set. I really want a canister set.)