This should be written about

Should I be offended that someone who poses like the statue David and asks his girlfriend if he looks like an Adonis thinks I'm too ugly for my husband to love?

Let's call the poser George and the girlfriend Weezie. I met up with Weezie, a longtime friend of Adam's and mine, last night for dinner. We were browsing in a bookstore and gabbing and I was telling her about congenital adrenal hyperplasia, which is my official diagnosis. I'm on the more mild side of the spectrum, which means that my symptoms are largely annoying, frustrating, and embarrassing as opposed to being life-threatening.

Later she mentioned that George had a few observations after having seen Adam and I together last weekend. "He sees the symptoms," she said, referring to me, "and he said: 'Adam loves Allison.'"

I was confused at first: Did she mean Adam sees my symptoms? Of course; they're pretty obvious, and besides, he's my husband. Of course he knows what I suffer from.

Then I realized she meant George. As she continued talking, it became clear: George was surprised that Adam could love me. After all, in George's eyes, I'm ugly. No one who's ugly is worthy of love.

I blinked, and for a single second thought about papering over my feelings. Saying It's okay. No worries. This tea is good, want to try some?

Then the tears came. They were subtle. No one else but Weezie saw. I wrapped my arms around myself. I needed protection.

"I find that offensive," I kept saying over and over, the statement's relative formality another layer of protection. "I find that so offensive."

Weezie moved closer and put a hand on my knee. Long ago she was Adam's housemate, someone I greeted as we passed on the stairs late at night. Then she met me and decided she wanted to be my friend. That was three years ago. "I understand," she said.

I feel better about myself then I've ever felt as an adult or teenager. Between medication, laser hair removal, and gym visits, I'm seeing changes.

That's why George's assertion got to me. It's not because I have low self-esteem. It's because these days I have higher self-esteem than ever before.

I also have a husband who is the most decent, kind person I've ever met. Being with him makes me believe everyone thinks like him. That everyone sees the world as he does. That people like George, who believes people he deems ugly aren't worthy of love, who poses and asks for affirmation, who shoots his mouth off about attractiveness yet is too embarrassed to discuss sexual topics with his own girlfriend, don't exist.

They do.

That's why I'm writing The Project.

On some level, I always knew I'd write about this. I just didn't how how I would ever address it. It was such a vortex of shame. How could I ever put it on paper and tell other people this is what's wrong with me? They saw it, but I could never openly address it with them.

Then I went to a workshop at Joyce Maynard's house in Mill Valley. She talked about At Home in the World, her memoir about the love affair she had at 19 with the 53-year-old J.D. Salinger. She said she knew she had to write it, and that afterward she wrote two books in quick succession. She had to get it out in order to move on, not just in art but in life.

During my second year of grad school I started taking notes. Finally I shared the idea with a professor I liked and respected. He encouraged me and I pushed further. I finished a draft in Costa Rica and now I'm revising and largely rewriting that draft.

I'm writing about this: What happens when your physical abnormalities, however benign, are too apparent to hide? For me, what happens is you embrace the truth. You become addicted to it. You find someone who loves you and tells you each day that you are beautiful, you are hot, you are Landa, inescapably.

You tell the world that this exists. You tell the world that you don't expect them to overlook those abnormalities, but that you would hope they'd see more.

To those who do see more: Thank you. This book I'm writing -- it's for you.

To those who don't: I say both Fuck You and Thank You. Fuck You for judging me. Thank You because I know what I'm up against, and I'm gaining ground because of it.