I hate going overseas for almost as many reasons as I love going overseas. After all it’s really great to experience a new culture, seeing new sites, blah blah blah.
But I really hate being the ugly American.
It’s unavoidable. Unless you are blessed with the double whammy of incredible good looks and lots of money you will look like an ugly American. And I’m pretty decent looking. At least pleasant. But all the ego boosts in the world could not have prepared me for Eastern European women.
Now, I thought I was prepared. I heard they were gorgeous, that they dressed sexy, that they were never seen without makeup. The stories of their tight jeans and three-inch heels made their way back to the States like tales of sea monsters and mermaids. I asked ahead of time and was (falsely) reassured that women here aren’t any better looking than they are back home. (Rule number 31: Never trust a man to judge a woman’s hotness.)
Bold. Faced. Lie.
Now on average, older Ukrainian women are about on par with Americans. Men, too. But teenage and young women. Holy smokes. The average hotness goes way up. I’m not even sure if they are actually more beautiful or if it’s just more effort but they are definitely doing something that works.
I feel like I’m going to see some young thing get discovered on the streets. That’ll be great. Then I can feel bad about how I look compared to her in person AND when I get back to the States and see her on the cover of Vogue.
I have a slight panic attack when I get dressed in the morning when I realize I have the same pair of ill-fitting jeans to wear before I shrug in hopelessness. There is nothing I can do to make myself pretty here. The sexiest clothing I brought with me is, no surprise, all my summer stuff, and even that is pretty damn tame.
To add to the frumpiness, my pants are now too big from my weight loss and it got cold so I have to wear my big coat. Neither emphasizes my newfound tiny waist. In fact, now I just look like an unfashionable American who can’t buy clothes.
I’ll never win.
