When Your Ex-Crushes are Now Uggs and You’re Hot
- Rahat Kapur
- Aug 12, 2015
- 5 min read
I was 12 years old when on a hot Summer’s day, I saw the beautiful head of a beautiful boy across the school football field. His hair was as gold as the crown on Cleopatra’s head, his skin milky yet tan like a well-baked oatmeal cookie and his body lanky and pre-pubescent. Exactly my type (or so I could conclude from the back of his head). A week later when I finally saw the front of said boy, (who I’ll call John cause who doesn’t love John?) I was not disappointed. Unfortunately I can’t say the same for him. After months (nay, years) of silently pining, I finally broke the news to him that I was head over heels in love with him and he looked at me with a combination of pity and mild pneumonia. The truth was, I looked like Harry Potter’s Indian Wizard child (glasses included) and dating me would’ve been social suicide. Naturally my heart broke into a million pieces and naturally, I turned to ice cream in my time of need. Too much of it.
Fast forward 12 years later, many, many heartbreaks later, a 16kg weight loss and a 5kg weight gain, I was innocently scrolling through my newsfeed when I spotted a photo of John taken 2 months ago. It’d been YEARS since John found me on Facebook and had added me (victory!) but actually seeing his face again after so, so much time made my eyes blink in horror and confusion. WHO WAS THIS MAN AND WHAT DID HE DO WITH THE BEAUTIFUL BOY I WAS IN LOVE WITH? How could this tired, sad and really, really unshapely man be the same John I had pined for all those years ago? How could HE have rejected ME? As I reconciled between my current state and his, I realised the god awful truth. It had really happened. The man I once crushed on so hard had suddenly become 12 year old me. I had become living proof of the girl who got rejected by a crush for being too uggs, only to become much hotter later. And damn, it feels SO GOOD.
For years, I’ve sat through the endless rejections from countless men who I’ve loved and lusted for. I’ve laid my heart out on the line and I’ve been met with that inevitable pacification of ‘You’re a great friend but..’ the end of that sentence being, ‘But I’m too hot to date you.’ And that’s why today, as a former nerdy, unfashionable, unibrowed survivor, I feel overwhelmed with joy that I am finally too hot for a former crush.
Say what you want about the world, but it’s a dirty place full of double standards. As a girl who even today falls into the curvy or plus-size or chubby bucket or whatever other ridiculous word you want to use to describe my shape, dating has never been easy. Men have reminded me over the years at most turns that my personality is winning, but I just don’t fit the ideal. So much so that one of my former flirtationships went as far as to say he’s been with too many hot women to settle with me now, even if I was the best thing that had ever happened to him. Whilst a large chunk of the weight has fallen off over the years and I finally learned how to use a pair of tweezers, I am still no Britney or Tiffany and the world will remind you every so often that you’re still not good enough if you let it. But DAMMNIT, at least I can say now with total assurance that I am so out of John’s league, you’d think I was insane for even considering him and that in itself, is a major victory.
You see, the point isn’t that I’m celebrating that I’m hotter because I’m bitter and my feelings remain unresolved. Oh no, no, no. I celebrate because it’s redemption for the way I felt and was treated through the ordeal of loving these men. Most of them were absolute jerks (my bad) and rarely gave me the respect of rejection to my face. Of the ones I actually dated, one broke off the relationship without so much as informing me and the other cut me off then came back every so often to wreak havoc in my life again. It was heartbreaking to tear myself apart from the baggage, insecurity and doubt they brought into my life, the importance I placed on how and what they thought of me and now that I’m free of this burden, that is why I celebrate today.
Everyone I’ve ever loved in any capacity is now obese, needy, deathly single and totally uggs. I for one, see this as karma doing her job. Kind of like the ‘Good Luck Chuck’ of future fatties. Their darkened souls and lardy hearts are now reflected on the outsides cause they weren’t smart enough to love me. Just kidding, but not really. As a ridiculously impatient and impulsive person, I can never wait for time to pass to heal wounds. I want revenge, yesterday. This is also probably why no producer will ever cast me in one of those Longest Ride style movies where time has to pass and you have to like move on from your depression and then years later run into your crush who is a mess since you left their life. Cause knowing me, I’d just literally throw a hissy fit there and then and be all, ‘YOU NO LOVE ME, I CUT YOU’. But turns out waiting really does work. The humiliation I suffered for every time someone told me I was too fat to date or their friends would make fun of them if we were hanging out together, it all becomes worth it when I see how ugly they are inside out and how beautiful and confident I’ve become.
No, this is not a sadistic arrogant love letter to myself. No, it’s not a reason to indulge in my own narcissistic belief I’m the hottest person ever. Cause I’m totally not, I mean hello, Penelope Cruz is still alive right? But what this is, is a ray of hope amongst the shadows of insecurities this world thrusts upon you every day. For every moment I feel I’m not good enough for the next John in my life, this, this is my reminder that one day, I could surpass him. It’s really just a beacon of light to let me know that I too, could be out of HIS league one day. It might be sad to say it, but God, it’s empowering to feel.
For anyone who has ever loved and suffered humiliation as a result of it because they’ve not been hot enough, I say your time will come my fellow freaks. 12 years from now when you scroll through your hologram newsfeed on Facebook or whatever the heck it’s called then, and you see that ugly photo of your John pop up, dressed like he robbed a hobo then fell down a ditch, you too will find redemption. For there is no greater feeling than just knowing, they couldn’t have you now if they wrote you letters on Winnie the Pooh paper. True story.
Till next time!
R xx
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