First things first; don’t worry, I’m not fishing for compliments. I know such posts usually put people in an awkward situation. “This girl is calling herself ugly, now what am I supposed to say?” No, I am not trashing myself, or wallowing in self pity. I happen to regard myself quite highly, in fact. I just thought it would be good to give you a glimpse of the world through the eyes of an unconventionally pretty person. As a young child, I had an abnormally high self esteem. I suppose all children are like that. I, literally, believed I could do just about anything. Sing in front of the church congregation? You bet I can! Bake a cake in a jam tin? It’ll turn out great! Write a composition? I’ll give you a Nobel prize winning essay! And along with believing I could do anything, I knew I could be anything. My life plan(and I was dead serious on this) was to be a model-singer-writer-neurosurgeon-super mom. Yes, it was. And was I pretty? Come on, I could probably knock that Miss World woman right off her throne. Well, then adolescence happened, and slowly but surely, that ludicrous optimism was shed, like autumn leaves, to pave way for a hefty serving of pessimism, with a seasoning of teenage angst and self consciousness. The voice inside my head, as I’m sure it did for many of you guys, spent countless hours convincing me that I would never be good enough. “Special? Hah, there are 7 billion people on this earth, how exactly are you unique?” Also, of course, came the age for awkward romance. At this point, I realized I was unconventionally pretty. There was a distinct difference between the way I was treated and the way particular friends were treated by boys. I doubt that I need to delve into details about what conventional beauty is. Just picture your typical pretty person. Yes, that is conventional beauty. It is not hard to pick out because it is agreed upon by a majority of the population. And the unconventionally pretty…that’s the rest of the population. The population that doesn’t get stares of admiration, or people who stammer when conversing with them, or reassurance that the guy /girl they like surely must like them back because, well, “look at this face.” So, this unconventional beauty, how did it work exactly ? The unspoken guide for us was to be outstanding in the background-to never delude ourselves into thinking we were conventionally beautiful, yet to be confident and not feel sorry for ourselves, because that would just be sad and embarrassing. So with this invisible guide in hand, I set out to conquer life, albeit a little less starry eyed as I was before. I started off pretty bad ,I admit. I was engrossed in self pity, wondering why I had to be this way. I was the poster girl for low self esteem disguised by a cheery, sociable demeanor. Then, I realized, my unconventional beauty was not a curse. It also was not a gift. It was simply there, a part of me, that would not deter nor boost my dreams. I could either choose to let it engulf me, or to push it aside and say, “Not now, I’m busy.” I chose the latter. And it was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. I guess what I’m trying to say, in many confusing sentences, is that I’m unconventionally pretty, and I survived. And I’m not just existing , I’m living. I hope you can all do the same.