Get an Ugly Girl to Marry You

Last weekend, Lana and I became privy to a fascinating nugget of information, presented to us by an unlikely source.

On Saturday afternoon, we made a jaunt over to the Mall at Green Hills, for a browse at the Sephora to find Lana a new bronzer, followed by a three-hour excursion at Lens Crafters, in an effort to spend a large chunk of my medical reimbursement from work.

We entered the store and began trying on the rows and rows of glasses. I guess we must have been animated and laughing sort of loudly, because I look over, and there's a young gentleman watching us and smiling. I realize he is a store employee, and I kind of wave him over for help. He comments about how much fun Lana and I are having and that he wants to join in.

As we are trying on different glasses, Lana hands me a pair that I don't like. I comment aloud that they look too futuristic, like those headband sunglasses that used to come in Wendy's kids meals. Marcus, as the store employee is called, looks at me funny and says, "wait, how do you remember those sunglasses? How old are you?" When I tell him that I'm 25, his mouth falls open and he looks at Lana and asks the same question. He's dumbfounded and tells us that he we looked a lot younger. Of course, Lana and I are both thrilled by this.

Throughout the course of three hours, Lana and I get to know Marcus intimately. He becomes "one of the gals," and shows us photos of his three children, ex-wife, and current boyfriend. Marcus practically falls in love with Lana and I, and he asks us if we have boyfriends. Lana and I look at each other in disgust and mumble "no." Lana chimes in that there aren't any good guys in Nashville, and Marcus retorts that there are, but they're all at the gay bar.

Lana laments that she just doesn't understand why she and all of her fabulous girlfriends are single and Marcus attempts to shed some light. He looks at Lana and I and says, "you both are very pretty girls and you look all cute with your makeup and earrings. Don't take this the wrong way, but I'm afraid that guys might think ya'll are too high maintenance."

Lana and I turn to each other in shock, and exclaim, "we aren't high maintenance," and "we can't help it if we look cute," and "we're guy-girls and we like sports and boy stuff too." Marcus nods in agreement, but says, "guys really just want girls who aren't going to give them any problems or challenge them. It's like the song goes, 'Get an Ugly Girl to Marry You.'" Lana and I burst out laughing and Marcus begins to sing the song.

If you wanna be happy for the rest of your life,

Never make a pretty woman your wife.

So from my personal point of view,

Get an ugly girl to marry you.

Being the Internet search guru that I am, I spent all morning scouring the WWW for this Harry Belafonte song, but I'm coming back to you empty handed. I really wanted you to hear it.

We finally left the mall. I was satisfied because I purchased three new pair of glasses, all on the company dime, and Lana, because every pair of glasses she'd tried on made her look even more fabulous than she is now. Ask her yourself, and she'll tell you it's true. She believes she has the perfect oval face for glasses.

So, fast-forward to Sunday afternoon. Lana and I are waiting in traffic, attempting to exit the church parking lot. We see an attractive gentleman, about 35-ish, with two young, handsome boys chasing after him. Following those three, is a woman who leaves quite a bit to be desired. I'm probably going to get struck by lightning for saying this, but lady wasn't cute. And it's not like she couldn't be cute if she wanted to be---a little makeup and an iron would have really taken her places. Lana and I are commenting about this fact, when it hits us both at the same time: "Get an Ugly Girl to Marry You."

We're both puzzled and amused by this discovery. I comment, "you know, Laney, I've figured out our problem---we suffer from high self-esteem. I have too much confidence in myself. I like to be cute, if for no one else, but to please myself. Some girls suffer from low self-esteem, but not us. Hello, my name is Mary Anna and I'm a Narcissist."

I wonder if they have a 12-step program for NPD...