“How attractive am I?”
That was the question I googled at 2:13 a.m. on a Wednesday. I was just… tired. Tired of the mirror, tired of the comparison game, tired of pretending like I didn’t care when deep down I absolutely did.
This isn’t a redemption arc. No miracle moment. Just a lot of tiny shifts. And even now, it’s not all clean inside. Still, slow. Kind of embarrassing sometimes. So if you’re here expecting a 10-step confidence checklist, maybe skip this one. I won’t be offended.
The Mirror Doesn’t Always Tell the Truth
There’s this mirror in my hallway that hates me. I’m convinced. The lighting is bad, the angle’s weird, and every time I walk past it, I end up regretting carbs.
But then there’s another mirror in the bedroom—soft light, a better angle, slightly dusty—and that one? That one’s nicer to me. Some days I look in it and think, “Hey, maybe I am attractive after all,” and I actually believe it. For like… five minutes.
Funny how the same face can carry beauty or doubt—depending only on how the light hits or where I’m standing. It made me realize: maybe the mirror isn’t lying. Maybe it’s just catching different versions of me, depending on the day, the lighting, or—let’s be real—how much sleep I got.
There’s no consistent answer to “Am I attractive?” because my brain keeps changing the scale. One day I’m a solid eight, the next I’m wondering if my nose grew overnight. It’s exhausting.
The Day I Tried To be a Casual Smart Woman on for Size
Okay, so here’s where things took a turn.
I decided to try. You know—fix the hair, put on an outfit that didn’t scream “forgot laundry again,” and see what happened. I googled “smart casual women” and got absolutely overwhelmed. There were blazers, neutral colors, and those shoes that look good but hurt instantly. It was giving “corporate chic,” but I wasn’t buying it.
Still, I cobbled something together. Loose tan trousers, tucked-in black tee, slightly wrinkled blazer I forgot I owned. And boots—because I don’t do heels unless someone’s getting married or buried.
The weirdest thing? People noticed. Not in a dramatic “Who is SHE?” movie-moment kind of way. But a couple of compliments came in. A barista said she liked my boots. A coworker told me I looked “put together.” That one stung a little because it made me realize how often I don’t.
But still—it felt… good. Like I had a little more control over the narrative. Not because clothes define you or any of that overused Pinterest wisdom. But because showing up for yourself shows. Even if just a bit.
Social Media: The Confidence Thief in Your Pocket
Let’s not pretend social media isn’t part of this mess.
It’s so easy to feel like crap online. I can be feeling great, scrolling through memes, and then boom—some glowing girl with perfect skin and “just woke up like this” curls shows up on my feed, and suddenly I’m spiraling. Again.
She’s probably using filters. I know that. You know that. We all know that. But that doesn’t stop our brains from going, “Well, maybe she’s naturally like that. Maybe I’m just the before photo in someone else’s glow-up montage.”
I had to unfollow a bunch of accounts just to breathe again. That helped. What also helped? Following more women who looked like me. Or who didn’t look like me, but didn’t pretend perfection was a personality trait. That changed things. Slowly.
Attraction Isn’t Just a Face (I Forget That Sometimes)
Someone I hardly knew once told me, “You enter a room like forgiveness already happened.” It wasn’t about appearance, and that’s probably why it stayed with me.
It floored me. Because—wow. First of all, what does that even mean? But also, what a thing to be seen for. Not how my eyeliner sat (uneven, for the record), but how I made people feel.
It reminded me that “how attractive am I” is such a narrow question if I’m only looking skin-deep. Like, yes, sure—I want to feel pretty. Who doesn’t? But I also want to be kind. Funny. Honest. The kind of person who laughs with her whole body and remembers people’s coffee orders.
That stuff counts. It really does.
The Second Attempt (This Time, for Me)
The second time I put effort into being “ Smart Casual Women,” my look wasn’t for anyone else. No dates. No meetings. Just a random Saturday, grocery run, nothing fancy.
The look was simple but thought-out: knit sweater, jeans, hair back, little gold hoops. It had that quiet confidence vibe. And this time, I didn’t find myself scanning for approval. I didn’t even look for one.
I just felt… okay. Maybe even good. Like I could go unnoticed and still matter. That was new.
It’s not like I need people constantly telling me I am attractive. But when I catch myself believing it? Even just for a heartbeat? I hold on.
Final Takeaways
Honestly? How attractive Am I?
Some days, I ask the mirror and it shrugs. Other days, I catch my reflection in a store window and think, “Hey, you’re not so bad.” And occasionally—on those rare, magical mornings when the hair gods bless me—I even think, “Damn. Okay.”
But I’m learning that my answer can change. And that’s okay. I’m not a fixed image; I’m a person. Mood swings and chipped nail polish and all.
So, at what extent am i attractive? Enough. Maybe more than I realize. And maybe—just maybe—maybe-that’s the real win.
