My Gigantic Ego

Let’s talk about me, like we always do.
I am a woman, after all. This is my favourite pastime.
After blogging for a year and a bit, I hit 4000 views. Because I am a nobody, I almost feel like a somebody.
About a week ago, I got my first fan. Unsuspectingly, I got a Facebook message. This does not happen often.
“Hi, Lola. This must be awkward, but I stumbled onto your blog and wanted to say I like how you use words. It’s really something.”
I played it cool. I thanked him, said I appreciated it, sent a smily face…
Meanwhile, back in the real world, I let out the most excited squeal and did a poorly choreographed victory dance. There was elbowing, finger pointing and a tripping running man.
MY VERY FIRST FAN.
Then we had a pleasant conversation, while I shamelessly stalked his Facebook profile.
My fan has a fan.
Recently, my brother also got his first fan. He, too, responded with fondness.

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I’m a moderately humanoid woman. I’ve got a nose, legs, hair and things.
I wore a dress yesterday. I’ve finally accepted my gender, and have succumbed to femininity.
People look at me.
Yup, there’s that spot I missed shaving. Was it my unkempt eyebrows? That damn random zit on my forehead? I know I should wax the stache. Perhaps my lipstick is too dark. Am I overdressed? I’m new at this. Can they see my underwear? Oh, no. Not the underwear.
“You come across so stuck up. You think you’re better than everyone else.”
I have four friends.
What if I’m isolated, not because I think I’m better than everyone else, but because I think everyone else is better than me?
My low self-esteem and I would like you to think about that.
If you want to.

I know. The change of pace surprised me too.

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