The brain

 

When I was a child I wanted to be pretty like my sister. That was her nickname, Pretty. 

She was always the pretty one. I was "the brain."

She was popular and adored by my mother and grandmother who valued pretty above all else. Grandma still simpered and wore matching stiletto heels and purses well into old age. If you were pretty people liked you and it was important to be liked. It was equated with being listened to and valued.

Except the pretty people I know often do not really listen to other people. They just make assumptions based on their own experiences.

Once they dressed their beautiful daughters like dolls, did not really push education, had a hundred excuses for that, and tended to pay less attention to their non-pretty children. Even years later, the grandchildren of the "pretty" child take precedence over their other grandchildren.

Imagine what it must be like to be one of these "pretty" people today when people don't have quite the same values?

Suddenly you find yourself older and in a world where your actions are coming home to haunt you. You become even more desperate to "be liked."  You try harder and harder, but with all the wrong ideas and your world begins to crumple around you.

It's hard to feel compassion for these people, especially if you were not one of the pretty ones, but they need it more than anyone. Imagine living just to be liked.