Tonight I had dinner with my parents and younger sister. We talked about my application for the Best Job in the World, and a few things I consider advantages. My sister said, "I hear what you're saying, just don't get your hopes up." Shocked, I inquired further. "You know how those things are, they will pick some model type athlete, it's all about looks. It may be shallow, but the winner will probably be some tall blonde." It hurt, but I'd heard it before, those very same lines.
When I was about to graduate high school my boss gave me a congratulatory $100 check. He wanted to know my major and I told him I'd like to get into public relations. He chuckled a bit and said, "Really? Those spokespeople all look alike, only ones you see on TV are tall blondes." (I did study communications in college and have since done some journalism, mostly marketing.)
Maybe the reason it hurts is because of all the things I can be, I'll never be a tall blonde. I'm 5'2" and my hair is volcano black. I've never been a rail, always had a curvy hourglass shape, probably making me look even lower to the ground. Like all women, I've had issues with my appearance, but I am so over wanting to be or look like someone else.
I am not a professional athlete, model, reality tv star, or tall blonde. But I am God's vision of me, with my own unique DNA. And so me, just plain me, joins the thousands who submit for a chance to work in paradise. I have to jump up for you to see my hand raising, but here it is!
If a tall blonde wins, well, I suppose my sister was right. But don't lessen my joy, don't take my hope or excitement away. I studied statistics, I know the odds. I'm aiming high, and if I'm not selected, I'll still be the same girl as before, maybe even standing taller.