I am not pretty. At least, that’s not what I want to be known for. My dad recently sat down to tell me not to fall into “pretty girl syndrome”. They’re the ones that want to get by on looks alone. It’s a sense of entitlement they believe they deserve because they were born with great genes.

I once got the compliment (at least I think it was meant as one) that I’d make a great trophy wife. I can clean up well (cute but not intimidatingly hot), college educated (but not post-graduate), and I don’t mind being thrown into gatherings where I don’t know a single soul (helpful during Christmas parties schmoozing with the boss). I couldn’t believe someone had dissected my life into that many compartments — I felt like the frog I carved up in biology class in high school. eWe.

One of the worst experiences in my life was meeting a boy’s parents and family for the first time. I was already super duper nervous but he neglected to tell me I was walking into a minefield. After asking me when/where I graduated from college, and my respective age, the evil Cinderella stepmother did the math and calculated I took nearly twice as long to graduate. “Oh….” was her response as her botoxed face hid her disgust. Things quickly went downhill as my career choice was brought into question, “It’s just laying things out on the computer…don’t you make things pretty?” I think I even saw someone eyeing the width of my childbearing hips during the course of the dinner.

Pretty girl syndrome doesn’t actually mean the girl has to be pretty. Actually it doesn’t have to be a girl. But I do think it affects more girls than boys. Truth is, if you don’t see each other as equals, things aren’t going to last very long.