In high school, my ego was so big I could have probably powered a car with it. Going to a smaller high school, there weren't many romantic options for anyone. I showered frequently, and was somewhat able to function at social gatherings, and at the time, that was enough... and then came college.

All of a sudden, I was surrounded by the homecoming queens, cheerleading captains, and girls who are basically Victoria's Secret models from schools all across the country. It was a hard realization that I wasn't a big fish in a small pond anymore. I was a tiny fish in what felt like the ocean.

I began to notice that guys would open doors for the girls ahead of me walking into the dorms, and would then let the door slam in my face as if I weren't even there. I would wander around aimlessly, and each time I asked an upperclassman to show me where a particular building was, I was outright ignored, but every time my new friends asked, they got a detailed explanation, as well as an escort.

And then, one day, it finally hit me... I'm not the hot friend.

At first, I didn't take the realization too well. I spent hours wondering what the rest of my solo life was going to be like - how many cats I would have, if my friends would allow me to bring my rabbit as my date to all of their weddings, and how I was going to fill all my free time as they were all beginning to be "cuffed" by their handsome suitors.

As I was beginning to accept my fate, I had another important realization: I'm glad I'm not the hot friend!

The hot friend commits to being the hot friend, and I just can't commit to that type of lifestyle.

You see, the hot friends wake up an hour and a half before they have to go to class in order to make sure that their eye wings are perfectly symmetrical, their hair is sporting the "natural messy curl" look, and their outfit shows the perfect amount of cleavage without being too risky.

Me, well, I would rather use that extra hour and a half to catch up on some sleep, watch an episode or two on Netflix, and then roll out in my warm hoodie. I'm perfectly satisfied with throwing my hair up in a messy bun, and accepting that I don't wake up naturally #flawless so I can get to the library a little faster and get some sushi before it's all gone.

It's no secret that I'll always be jealous of the hot friend. Whenever I walk into the room with the hot friend, it's almost like I didn't walk into the room at all. They never have to pay for their drinks, they never have to carry their groceries, and they never spend a Friday night alone binge watching Netflix.

The one important lesson I've learned from all my hot friends is that it's actually a blessing that I'm not another hot friend. The competition is too fierce, other girls constantly putting them down out of jealously. Their phones are constantly blowing up, and once deemed the hot friend, they constantly have to work on keeping up the image. Days where I wanna show up in sweatpants go unnoticed, but days I actually do throw on a dress, I'll get a comment like, "Wow, you actually look like a girl today," and for me, that's more attention than I wanted.

The bottom line is that it's OK not to be the hot friend. Own it. Genetics are bound to fall short somewhere, but one day, you will find someone who thinks you are the hot friend. And, if you are the hot friend after all, own it.

It takes all kinds to make the world go round, and always remember that beauty is nothing more than a combination of either fortunate or unfortunate genes ... that you can always blame your parents for later.