Pretty or Smart

This piece is a gentle reflection on self-image, growing up, and the desire to be seen—both for beauty and brilliance. It’s not a cry for validation, but an honest exploration of thoughts many of us once had (or still have).

At the age of 12,

a classmate once told me:

“You’re not that pretty.”

I knew what pretty meant—

but I didn’t understand

what it had to do with me.

Why do I have to be pretty anyway?

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At that time,

it wasn’t even a part of my thought process.

It wasn’t something I measured myself by.

But when I got home,

I looked in the mirror—

trying to see what she saw.

Still,

I couldn’t grasp the gravity of her words.

I didn’t let it bother me.

---

Oh, how I miss those days—

when things didn’t bother me.

When I didn’t know what it meant

to question your reflection.

---

I said to myself,

“I just have to be smart.

That’s what matters.

Not being pretty.”

Oh dear,

how dumb and childish

that sounds to me now.

---

Because tell me,

who runs the world now?

Pretty girls?

Or smart girls?

Sometimes,

pretty privilege opens doors.

Other times,

smart privilege does.

---

But can I just…

have both?

Can I walk into a room

full of insanely intelligent minds,

and have them look at me

like I just saved the world

from a looming disaster?

Like I’m Mother Teresa—

with winged eyeliner.

---

I want to walk by,

and even the women

turn to look at me.

Not out of envy,

but awe.

Like I’m the angel

who just serenaded the room

by simply showing up.

---

I don’t even have those things.

Not yet.

All I can do

is fictionalize it.

Hold the image in my head,

and hope…

one day…

it becomes real.