Smart vs Pretty

This whole feminist thing has had me reevaluating some life events.  I remember a moment in 7^th grade when I was working on a group project in my Social Studies class.  A boy in my group named Adam was the cutest boy in my class and I was smitten with him.  Every girl I knew wanted to be his girlfriend, which in 7^th grade meant we all wanted to hold hands with him at recess.  My first, and really only interaction with Adam was him asking me to take responsibility for researching the answer to the most difficult question posed because “you’re the smartest girl I know.”

I remember stammering some sort of response as to why I wasn't the smartest girl he knew and that it was surprising how many people had that wrong impression of me.  “I’m really not smart; in fact I’m pretty sure I’d be in Special Ed if my mom wasn't friends with the principal.”

I should have been flattered by what I am now sure was meant as a compliment, but instead I was mortified.  If Adam’s primary descriptive word for me was ‘smart’ then I wasn't the prettiest girl he knew.  Smart girls don’t end up with the guy, and the guy is the biggest prize.

Adam later moved to a different school and I became interested in a boy named Ed.  It was around this time I was diagnosed with epilepsy and began having petite-mal seizures at school.  When Ed asked me about the seizures I explained (and this is not a joke) that the seizures occurred when I thought too much.  Therefore, I tried not to think too hard.  I really wanted Ed to think of me as ‘pretty’ before ‘smart’ – and thought if he felt smarter than me this would help in that regard.  It must have worked because I did end up holding Ed’s hand during a couple of recesses. 

Though I can think of life moments where I tried to downplay my intelligence in order to get a boy to like me, I’m not sure why I felt this was necessary.  I’m still trying to figure out where this thought process originated- perhaps Disney had something to do with it.