A Second Glance

Tina Fey told a little story in an interview once about how her grandmother was proud of her large nose, because it gave her a sense of humor. The little anecdote was very funny and hit pretty close to home for me, as someone who was not the pretty duckling throughout elementary and middle school. I was the duckling with the boy-short hair and buck teeth and perpetual scrapes on both knees.

But I eventually outgrew middle school and I outgrew a lot of my “unattractiveness.” My hair grew out and my teeth straightened up and, let’s be honest, my boobs got respectably big. What I didn’t outgrow was the sense of humor I developed during my awkward years. I’m sure it started out as a coping mechanism, but before long it was just part of me. It was who I was. I felt proud of the attention I would get from boys passing me in the hallway, but when I made a classroom burst out laughing, I never felt better.

My junior year in high school, I developed a very serious crush on a boy who to this day is one of the funniest people I have ever known. We could go back and forth for hours and make everyone laugh at the lunch table, and when I talked to him I felt completely giddy, not because I had a crush on him, but because he was so much fun. Everything became an opportunity to have a sense of humor.

You all see where this is going right?

One day at the aforementioned lunch table, in a whole group of friends, we decided to play “Fuck, Chuck or Marry.” For those of you not familiar, you suggest three people and someone has to choose from those three who they would…fuck, chuck, or marry. Quickly the game grew personal, and my crush was asked who he would fuck, chuck, or marry, and his choices were me and my two best friends.

Now we all see where this is going, I hope.

I got chucked.

And as he took it upon himself to explain his reasoning, I felt increasingly terrible, even though I was laughing it off. “I’d marry Brittany because she has very classic features and I feel l like she would be a good mom.”

“I’d fuck Julie because she has a really sweet personality and has blonde hair.”

“And I’d chuck Hannah because she’s…like a guy.”

WOAH HANG ON. I wasn’t laughing any more. “What do you mean, like a guy?”

“Well…it’s not like the way you look, you’re cute and everything, and you don’t do manly things or act like…you know, a dyke or whatever,” he said in that lame backtrack voice that people use when they say stupid shit and just keep on saying stupid shit.

“So then how am I like a dude if I’m nothing like a dude?” I said. “Pretty sure I’m not following your dumb fucking logic.”

“Well…it’s because you’re funny.”

That completely blew me away. Being funny was something I was so proud of, because anyone can be pretty and a lot of people are smart but being funny takes talent. Not a lot of talent, but still.

At that moment I realized that “being funny” was something that some people equate with men, and that some people think women can’t be funny. So if a woman did, God forbid, make you laugh, she was masculine, because humor is a man’s thing. Especially if that humor is poking fun at people or dishing it right back or basically doing anything other than telling a stupid knock knock joke.

And it was also at this moment that I realized that for some people, there were only two choices I had. I could dumb it down and quit the funny shit and just be cutesy and sweet and maybe my “classic features” or my “sweet personality” would shine through more, or I could continue being funny and making people laugh but seen as a masculine goofball who would be hot if she shut the hell up.

I just stared at this person, that literally one minute prior I had so much admiration for, and felt my whole perspective shift.

I refused to accept that I could be desirable, or I could be funny, but I couldn’t be both. I didn’t have to choose between the two. I just had to choose better people to have crushes on.

And so, now when I’m in a big group of people doing my best Lil Wayne impression or telling a story about how I vomited in eighth grade when I found out what a BJ was, I know that I’m probably making stupid faces and weird motions and I’m probably not looking like a supermodel making sexy face.

But I like to think that this might be the most attractive thing about me: that I’m not afraid to let my personality come through, no matter how weird it makes me look.