I remember being in elementary school — fifth grade, maybe — and watching the "popular girls" work the crowd. They had so much power. The boys flirted with them in the way that little boys do, more with teasing than with prowess. The other girls feared them and their strange influence. They ruled with temptation and intimidation.
It was the first time I was conscious of the power of physical beauty.
As I grew older, I believed that only this type of woman — one with "flawless" physical beauty — could be truly irresistible. I incorrectly assumed that, for them, finding love was easy, and that, for me, it would take much (largely superficial) self-improvement and hard work. I tried so hard to be "perfect," holding tight to the warped belief that only perfection equated lovability.
Gradually, I unconsciously built a wall between myself and others because of my need to be perceived as perfect. I resisted admitting weakness. I resisted sharing my intimate wants, needs, and fears. I resisted asking for help. I became a listener instead of a sharer — all in an unconscious effort to appear lovably "perfect."