Pretty Vagina, Smart Vagina

Pretty as Webster says it: pleasing by delicacy or grace, having conventionally accepted elements of beauty.
Smart: mentally alert, bright.
These aren't two mutually exclusive things so why do we find ourselves falling into only one category? I have heard people say "It is better to be the smartest girl in the room than the prettiest." ( I cant remember who I got this quote from but my guess Is probably a really stupid man with an ugly daughter) Stop. Why can't we be both? Every time you turn on the TV, there it is, the pretty girl that doesn't know the difference between chicken and tuna, the half dressed big breasted girl that runs up the stairs instead of outside in every scary movie we watch, the nerdy girl who can't get a date that always falls hopelessly in love with the jock. There it is ladies, staring back at us, our choices: dressed up, dumbed down and oversexed, or an ugly as shit know it all that will never take leading role with a six figure career. Hmmmm how will I ever choose? Okay it's TV not reality but somewhere on the path to growing up my sister and I were labeled (what I attribute as pathetic attempt to separate us, give us separate and equal self esteem, because growing up we looked very similar) My sister; the smart one, and me: the pretty one. This offers us both a preset of separate questions. Put us in a large group of family, and the conversation of work and success and books will always be had with my sister, I will always get "who made that dress" I find myself screaming in my head " well if I were god damn smart enough to read the label maybe I could tell you!" It goes onto eyeshadow, and then maybe the kids, but I would probably go into fucking cardiac arrest at 30 if my grandmother ever asked me what book I read last. I always wonder what it would be like if my Grandma took me under her wing and tried to get me a job. "What are your qualifications dear" "Well grandma, I can mix a large variety of cocktails, can pick the perfect shade of eyeshadow for any occasion, and I swallow." a set of qualifications fit for a hooker, and not even a high classed one at that. My grandma would probably high tail it to church and confess for me, because for as Catholic as she has always wanted me to be I never finished, or started communion. At some point don't we all take a part of what we hear we are constantly and become it? In a world where pretty is size two and double D boobs what exactly do I have to look forward to? Mornings spent with Dr.90210 getting nipped, tucked, and filled, afternoons eating followed by a refreshing finger down the throat, and evenings spent shopping online. Let's face it, I'm 30, my ass started touching the back of my legs somewhere around the summer of last year, the only topless thing I do is shower, and if bot ox doesn't get cheaper soon I'm thinking about taking out a loan. Pretty only lasts so long (I say that in the voice of the many women I have heard it from) so what happens when I wake up and pretty is in fact gone, I guess I either get drug out back and shot old yell er style or get married. If Cinderella would have started out as a lawyer, met her prince charming and then sued the shit out of her evil step mother and sisters for liable would things be different? Now that is the Walt Disney I would have my daughter growing up to. 

I never claimed to be stupid, I only confessed to taking part in my label. Do I have to walk around reciting the periodic table of elements so when someone asks for the manager and I approach I don't have to hear "Oh are you the owners wife?" Because wouldn't it just be absurd to assume that despite my nice rack and pretty face that maybe I actually know what the fuck I am doing? After all everyone who is anyone knows that you are either a pretty vagina or a smart vagina...right? All I'm asking is if it is possible in a world of airbrushed billboards and silicone and glasses and college degrees, if I can have one labia of each.