Quotes About Appearance

So I've been sexy all these years? Why hasn't anybody noticed?" "Because you dress like you hate your body," Cal said. "Sexy is in your head and you don't feel sexy so you don't look it.

He looked like every glossy frat boy in every nerd movie ever made, like every popular town boy who'd ever looked right through her in high school, like every rotten rich kid who'd ever belonged where she hadn't. My mama warned me about guys like you. He

don't be snowed by a handsome guy at a bookstore who quotes Cicero and Proust. They are often not the real thing. As with many fleeting pleasures--travel in their company, enjoy them every so often, and then get on with your life.

And here's the good news: even if things don't get better, you can always make them look good on the internet.

No one wanted to see anything that raw. The trick of the Internet, I had learned, was not being unapologetically yourself or completely unfiltered; it was mastering the trick of appearing that way. It was spiking your posts with just the right amount of real… which meant, of course, that you were never being real at all.

a white headband in her curled and sprayed hair.

A body was just a body, just a vessel for her soul, and she was under no obligation to keep her body looking any certain way...

The trick of the Internet, I had learned, was not being unapologetically yourself or completely unfiltered; it was mastering the trick of appearing that way. It was spiking your posts with just the right amount of real… which meant, of course, that you were never being real at all.

She looked good in every shot, and not one of them had told the truth about the two of us, or about her, about who she was, or what she wanted, or who she'd been in love with. Not any more than my Instagram account told all of my truth, or Darshi's account, or Leela's.

I'd lost . . . ten pounds? Twelve? Enough to make me believe that if I just kept at it I could lose the weight, the percentage of myself, that would finally make my body acceptable. Enough to make me believe that a man could like me, could look past my current incarnation and see the beauty that would be revealed when I dropped another thirty pounds.

The trick of the Internet, I had learned, was not being unapologetically yourself or completely unfiltered; it was mastering the trick of appearing that way. It was spiking your posts with just the right amount of real… which meant, of course, that you were never being real at all. The more followers I got, the more I thought about that contradiction; the more my followers praised me for being fearless and authentic, the less fearless and authentic I believed myself to be in real life.

Appearance, not reality, is what the clever dog grasps at in these clever days. We spurn the dull-brown solid earth; we build our lives and homes in the fair-seeming rainbow-land of shadow and chimera.

She wasn't gorgeous, wasn't ugly. A sprinkle of freckles crossed the bridge of her nose. Mostly, she looked like a hundred other girls in school, except for two things, She wore no makeup, and her eyes were the biggest I had ever seen, like deer's eyes caught in headlights.

No big corporation would promote a hunchback.

The thought that he might have to leave did not upset him; he knew that eventually he would have to go but that, as on TV, what would follow next was hidden; he knew the actors on the new program were unknown. He did not have to be afraid, for everything that happened had its sequel, and the best that he could do was to wait patiently for his own forthcoming appearance.

Mom had gotten herself so gorgeous she nearly broke the mirror

In walked a woman whose attitude was certainly in its fifties if she was not.

Hazel eyes a little too close together, like bowling ball holes.

The first impression one gets of Michael Deane is of a man constructed of wax, or perhaps prematurely embalmed. After all these years, it may be impossible to trace the sequence of facials, spa treatments, mud baths, cosmetic procedures, lifts and staples, collagen implants, outpatient touch-ups, tannings, Botox injections, cyst and growth removals, and stem-cell injections that have caused a seventy-two-year-old man to have the face of a nine-year-old Filipino girl.

Beer goggles are no match for atrocious lighting.

Celeste knew that, according to societal standards at least, she was attractive, but she didn't quite understand why those standards existed in the first place. Her appearance had nothing to do with the strange creature that she was.

How is it you're so beautiful and so fucking ugly inside! You know it wouldn't take much to make your outside look like your inside!! I could just chop your brain out! It doesn't deserve such a pretty body...

The cosmetics that had seemed superfluous were necessary now, not to improve her but to define her somehow.

After I look at her I look at myself in the mirror, and yet again I resign myself to the fact that my face has always disappointed me. Every look in the mirror dismays me, that's the reason I tend to avoid them.