The one where I reveal how confident I'm really not

Some time last year, my friend Kasey told me she always admired me for not caring about what other people think of me. I thought she was crazy.

Not for admiring me, of course - I've got plenty of positive qualities, like leaving the trash by the door for Gideon to take out and always eating the last slice of pizza - but for thinking I don't pay attention to how others feel about me. Because of course I do. Everybody does.

While my self-confidence is leaps and bounds better than it was during college, I still have days where I feel like doing anything but leaving the house and being productive. Part of this is due to body issues; I've previously written about my thunder thighs and the unfortunate way they expand when I sit down. Basically, it goes from "oh, I can totally fit in between those people on that park bench" to "the ladies will be needing a little more room, thanks." (Yes, my thighs are two separate people.)

It's not all that, though. Confidence comes from within, meaning that I could weigh as much as the Hulk and have the skin color of green beans and still feel like the hottest - albeit perpetually angry - person in the room if my confidence were high constantly. But, sadly, it is not. Most days, I look in the mirror and find at least one flaw before leaving the apartment.

My teeth are too yellow.
Or
My hair isn't curly.
Or
These sleeves don't conceal my bat wings.
Or
My eyelashes are 1/10 of a Kardashian's. (But I don't have a sex tape or fat injections in my ass, so I'm slightly better off.)

It isn't all about my body issues. I feel I'm a pretty awkward person and often screw up in social interactions, but people think I'm confident in myself because I power through my own awkwardness and continue the conversation as if nothing happened. True story: When I was 10, my friend asked me what I'd do if people made fun of my quite rotund body at a pool party. I was upset when she asked this but didn't want to show it, so I said, "I'd make fun of them back."

That wasn't just an off-the-cuff comment. I really did criticize bullies when they insulted my appearance. A boy named Kerry Ewart (that's a real name; I hope you don't mind me smearing your name and I am sorry for implying that your mother is promiscuous on several occasions, Kerry) joked to all his friends that I was "as big as the White House."

I pointed out that it was impossible for a human to be that big without dying and then tossed this zinger his way:

"And anyway, at least I didn't get held back in first grade for having low reading comprehension and at least my mom loves me."

(Ed. Note: I was terrible. I was also 10, so it's a pretty impressive insult if you think about it.)

Other awkward social interactions include: spilling an entire pitcher of lemonade at a college party, with me pretending I meant to and proclaiming "floor lemonade" to be the hot new beverage; falling during a run in science class where we were testing our own velocity, with me staying on the ground in embarrassment so long that I had negative velocity; and closing the car door on my hand during a date, with me pretending it actually didn't hurt and retreating to the bathroom to cry in pain (I even high-fived the guy later on; what is wrong with me?).

So I guess the "fake it till you make it" adage is pretty accurate. If you pretend that you didn't embarrass yourself in public, people are less likely to think you embarrassed yourself.

Interesting. If you'll excuse me, I have to go fall up some stairs or something.