But unattractive by whose standards?

I'm really enjoying the discussion spawned by Caperton's question "What do you do when you feel unattractive?"  I'm as guilty as anyone of criticizing the feminist blogosphere as dealing in "universals" that are anything but (this is a completely valid criticism, by the way), but the variety of answers, not just in response to the question, but to the standards of "attractiveness" and who gets to decide what beautiful is, illustrates why it's naive to assume that your average blog reader is a young, white cis, het girl living on the east coast.

To answer the original question? I have no no idea. I always too concerned with being smart of cool that a lot of times attractive (in the absolute, physical, male-gaze-y sense) didn't even figure into the equation. And that's hard to write because it makes it sound like I'm trying to convince myself that I'm above all that's superficial. And it's also true -- for me anyway -- that it matters less when you're older. I don't really care what 25-year-olds think about me, so I'm not dressing to impress them. (If one were my boss I'd probably be a little concerned.)

But growing up I knew I wasn't the blue-eyed, blonde cheerleader type: the "cute" girl. If I compared myself to that, I'd be very unhappy. (Although I still fall under the umbrella of whiteness -- and maintain all the privileges that come with that -- I am of a decidedly ethnic variety and have features that mark me as such. I still get "what are you?" a lot.)

Right now I live in a working-class neighborhood in a mid-sized, Midwest city. If I did too much obvious "beautifying," I'd be accused of trying to be better than everyone else. Most of the women I know wear jeans, tee shirts, and minimal makeup unless they're at work. (And most of the people I know wear uniforms to work.) If I lived in New York or LA, maybe I'd feel differently. That probably sounds a little flip, but I think it's an important distinction to make.