DEAR LUCY LIPPS:
I used to listen to you on the air in Dallas on my way to the office. We have really missed you here. I've never talked to anyone about this because I fear what they may tell me. I know this seems bizarre, but (even though I don't know you) I honestly trust your opinion. Although I can't see myself as others see me, I've been told frequently that I'm really "beautiful," "gorgeous," "hot," "attractive," etc. While this is not a problem, the way people treat me is the problem.
I am thirty-nine years old and people think I'm ten to fifteen years younger. Men in general stare, gawk, honk, hoot, and howl at me. Women are usually very bitchy and mean. When I get to know men, at work or wherever, they seem to develop romantic and sexual feelings for me and then tell me about it.
Women make snide remarks about my looks, especially when they notice that men are paying special attention to me. I don't feel like I can have a normal friendship with others.
So what's my problem? The older I get, the more I crave close relationships, and I'm getting more and more sensitive about the way I am getting treated. I dress in really loose clothing, use very little makeup, and always think about not looking too good. I've tried to examine my appearance and figure out different ways I can downplay my looks. I wear glasses (I stopped wearing contacts after a year because I kept getting comments about my eyes). I do not flirt. I've always been sort of a tomboy type.
Recently, I had another male friend confess his romantic fantasies to me and tell me he can't be my friend because he thinks about me too much. In the last three years, I've lost three other male friends due to similar situations.
Have you heard of or experienced something like this, or am I all alone in my predicament? How do women deal with this? I thought maybe since you were in Playboy you might could relate ---Looks Not an Asset
MY POOR DEAR NOT AN ASS-et:
Your letter almost gave me a headache only a (1/2 lb.) box of Godiva would cure!
If you were a great pianist, Hon, would you cut off your thumbs because other pianists were jealous? If you were a great artist and other artists turned against you because of your brilliance, would you hang up your brushes? If you "set the pole" in qualifying for the Indianapolis 500 would you leave the parking brake on for 500 miles?
Downplaying your beauty does not effect anyone else, honey, expect it just hurts you more. Making yourself less will never make people love you more. Though you may not believe it, you might even venture to burst upon mankind with all your God-given fabulousness (your contacts included) and mankind would survive -- actually a new set of peers would embrace you.
And here's the best part: The more you own up to your beauty, the more you'll be empowered, and the more you're empowered, the more friends will flock to you. You don't have to test this theory -- this is a scientific proven known LUCY FACTIOD!
Why? Because when you blaze forth with your own magnificence, you promote others around you to do the same. Everybody ignites, everybody shines-and every guy who honked will suddenly get nervous, begin sweating and trembling, flap around for two seconds, and then huddle in a cage like a frightened bany rooster at a cock fight. A beautiful woman who glories in herself inspires respect, not "true confessions" from "friends." I live by the adage "no one can ever make you feel inferior without your consent." Learn it, love it, live it and embrace it!
And if people don't respect you, you're in the wrong business and you're around the wrong people. Then again, this may be the reason I don't wake you up through your radio in the morning, either. Jerry Jones (of Dallas Cowboys fame) didn't think I was as fabulous as I thought I was and ran me out of town.
Beautiful women (with brains) do extremely well in most endeavors, and, from what I've seen, possess a clear advantage in the entertainment industry-not to mention advertising, public relations, politics, cosmetics, fashion and sales. As for posing in Playboy, it took 10 journeyman, 4 sandblasters and an architect to make me look remotely worthy of something an airbrush artist could work with.
PS As for the jealous women making the snide remarks - don't forget "when your enemies stop hissing...you know you are slipping!"