I was never beautiful. As a baby I might have been gracious and pretty but mostly I was rare considering I was the only child with dark big eyes and black curly hair in a country where all the babies had blue eyes and straight blonde hair. Because of that, everyone considered I was a beautiful child so people were very nice to me in a place where no one is nice to anyone. That, sadly, only lasted until my fifth year of life, when my mom decided to move in with my dad - the baby needs a paternal figure- from a little unknown country (Republic of Moldova, part of the Soviet Union back then) to another unknown country, this time on the other side of the world, Dominican Republic.
My whole world went down on me (how traumatic is that for a 5 years old girl?): I was no longer so rare, as every single person had darker eyes and curlier hair than me, I was no longer the center of attention, as there was many other children-cousins, neighbors -and a couple of months later my new brother- to pay attention to and worst than all, I couldn’t get away with all of my whims because my new dad wouldn’t let me.
On top of that, people always would mention how good looking was my brother and how much he looked like mom- who was stunning and still is- and how it was soo obvious whose daughter I was: My dad’s (a typical Dominican man that had nothing about his looks that might be considered pretty or even appealing).
I had to find a way to get the things I wanted, if not for my looks then for my ways. I guess I developed a strong determined personality as a result to these constant “attacks” I received from the outer world. Even my mom when I asked her if I was cute or pretty would tell me: -well sweetie, you are not exactly pretty. If your nose was smaller, or your eyes were bigger… (Russian people are extremely harsh when it comes to the truth). So I decided I didn’t need to be pretty. I was smart and that should be enough to get things my way.
As a proud and self centered person I was, it was important for me to always lead everything, and since children that age didn’t care much about those things, it was extremely easy. I stuck with that “technique” through my high school years too, and amazingly it worked pretty good. People would always assume there’s something interesting about someone who won’t speak much and the fact that I disliked everyone I didn’t know would just make them try harder for me to like them. Even when I was fat and ugly (the “froggiest” I had ever been) I would always have many people that for some reason would always wanna hang around with me. The pretty girls (the princesses would always call me to go out and I had to spend the week inventing excuses for me not to go out on weekends and make my bother and sister accomplices:
-Hello, may I speak to Iana?
-(who is it?) Who is calling?
- (she says her name)
-(tell her Im not here, or Im taking a shower) She s taking a shower
-oh…well, when she comes out tell her to call me
-sure
I would never call. And it wasn’t that I didn’t want to go out (I didn’t really) its just that is hard to be looked at when you are hanging with someone much hotter (and skinnier) than you are- and since people where too much into listening back then, I didn’t have that much to offer).
I would always try to lose weight but never found a very good reason for such a big sacrifice- quitting food, the biggest pleasure of life ( I didn’t know sex back then). So, at some point, after an endless count of Mondays starting a diet I would quit before lunch time, I read a book that mentioned the beauty of fatness (or something like that) and decided not to stop myself again with stupid diets an just do (eat) whatever a wanted to do (eat). However, there was a disturbing fact about it: I didn’t mind being physically fat, but I did care about the implications it might have on my health. So I made a plan: I would eat what I wanted but I would also exercise myself in the Mirador. I didn’t have much to do those days so spending an hour or two walking and seeing gorgeous sweaty guys with their tops off was a great choice.
As ironic as life is just when I didn’t care about losing weight I started to lose it. In a period of 6 months or so I lost 30 pounds which I wouldn’t have noticed if my pants wouldn’t start to fall of me and everyone wouldn’t tell me “ooohhh you are so skinny, what did you do? Diet?”. The same people that would tell me years ago after a gained weight oooohhh sooo look sooo…..Big (big is the word people use for fat or ugly when they cant say pretty) would now tell me “you look so good!!”(Finally!! I didn’t buy it though).
After that I can’t remember anything specifically-it all happened around the time I lost The Force (something I’ll talk about later on)- but I just know that all of the sudden I passed from being an extremely shy, dark mooded but extremely clever “frog” to a hot, sexy, not that shy –funny and crazy- though not that clever “princess” in a 2 years blink that changed my world upside down.
I’m still not used to this new lifestyle, so I constantly get surprised when people stop me on the streets to give me a mobile if I don’t have one just to talk to me –that actually happened once- or send me notes to invite to places when I’m with my family.
As flattering as that is, sometimes I wish I was a frog again: as a frog I know people will spend time with me cuz I’m interesting-even if I’m not that much- instead of spending it just to see if they can get in my pants; I’d get to be heard instead of being watched- its amazing how words lose credibility when they come from a good looking person- and I wouldn’t have to care about looking better all the time- not that I do so much now, but it’s a progressive disease.
I know people say you can’t have it all-its whether the looks or the brains- but is it really impossible? It can’t be and I intend to prove it. But if it is….which one will I choose? Will I be the frog or the princess?
Iana
2:14 pm
sunday nov. 13, 2005
