Here’s What It’s Like to go Through Life as a Gorgeous Woman

  • By Alexa Tsoulis-Reay
  • Sep 11, 2018

Follow how a woman in her late 50s tells Alexa Tsoulis-Reay how her looks affected her life.

reddlights.comPhoto-Illustration: Stevie Remsberg/Getty Images

It all started in middle school, the eighth grade to be exact. People started out to tell me I was pretty. I was tall and willowy. I had a great figure and I never weighed more than a hundred and twenty pounds during my 20s. I commenced modeling in high college and had waist size darkish brown hair and brown eyes. When I do the complete makeup, eyelashes, excessive heels, gown appear I am very intimidating.

My appearance opened doors for me. I had a job in PR as a news producer, writer, reporter, and talk-show host. I performed in daytime soap operas, TV commercials, and in theater. I, by no means, interviewed for a job I didn’t get. I had a excellent diploma from a well-rounded college, sure - but I think I’d get a job above other candidates because of my physical appearance.

One of the worst things about being beautiful is that other women despise you. I have cried because of other women my entire life. When I attempt to make pals with a woman, I feel like I’m a guy trying to woo her. Women don’t trust me. They don’t want me round their husbands. I was often excluded from parties, with no explanation. I can imagine their concept method goes something like this: “What does it matter if I damage her feelings. She has her appears and that’s greater than I have. Life has already performed favorites …” It’s form of like being born rich, humans don’t believe that you feel the same pain. It’s a bias that human beings can’t shake.

Throughout my life, competitive, attractive, wealthy, entitled girls hated me. At my first job after college, my female colleagues worked against me. They planted bottles of half-drunk booze on my desk so that it seemed like I was the one drinking on the job. Two ladies were obsessed with me. They complained to my boss in an attempt to get me fired. I talked to some of my superiors about it and they put it to me straight: Look, it’s pure unmitigated jealousy. They really do hate you because of the way you look.

Almost as soon as I was engaged to a man, our relationship ended after his sister-in-law spread gossip about me to his family. They threatened to cut his inheritance if he stayed with me, so he left. It broke my heart. I think her feeling was: I am the princess of this family, and that this woman will have to be eliminated. Later, after I married another man, and I went through hell with my sister-in-law. She doesn’t invite me on household vacations, and blocked me on all social networks.

That resistance other women have against me is one of the main pitfalls of being attractive.When I used to be youthful I used to be so desperate for friends, I’d take anyone.

Men were extra loyal friends, but my boyfriends would usually say: That’s because they prefer to get laid. So I’d think: Women dump on me. Men just want to have sex with me. Who am I? My closest friend was a gay guy, he wasn’t jealous and he didn’t care to get laid. I think that may have been my only pure friendship.

I did not have a problem getting guys, but I always got bored and ended up moving on. I ought to have taken the top ones greater seriously. I can see now that they would have been husbands, fathers, and vendors but I’d just glide away on to the next and cease returning their calls.

So I look back on my life and think: What did my good looks do for me? They landed me a few jobs, and a lot of boyfriends …what else? I didn’t get married until 35 because I didn’t want the merry-go-round to end.

My husband was the best man standing. He had a bit of an alcohol issue, which he’s overcome. There was a time when matters had been bad and I considered leaving him, but I had no idea how to even go about finding someone new since I never had to pursue a man. I couldn’t cope with that type of rejection.

These days, because I have aged, when I don’t put on makeup and I attain a bit of weight (which happens of course) I ignore it. As a ways as men, and every person under 40 is concerned, I am invisible. They do not see me now. I can even walk the road naked — it’s that bad.

Here’s the sad part. It doesn’t rely how stunning you were in your youth; when you age, you grow to be invisible. You ought to seem to be appropriate but … who cares? Nobody is looking. Even my young-adult sons pass me. The irony is that now that I am older I am a much higher person. I went thru some suffering in my 40s — raised two kids, dealt with an alcoholic husband, watched my mom and dad get sick and pass away — and I honestly grew. But as far as the world is concerned? I’ve misplaced all my value.


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