Heck, even some folks who have joined Mensa feel that way, as if they are slumming. I’ve seen Mensa members trying to one-up other Mensa members by mentioning that they belong to other high-IQ societies that have tougher standards than Mensa’s. The “mine is bigger than yours” mentality isn’t the norm within Mensa, but it certainly exists. Being a good test-taker doesn’t guarantee emotional maturity.
I’m…I’m not 13!
I’m…
…
…my birthday is in a few days
Or you’ll very quickly figure out that most of the ribbing here, especially what you’ve experienced so far in this thread, is good-natured and we ask for spurious cites any time someone mentions physical attractiveness or kittens or puppies or really anything.
Welcome.
I’m with teela brown and MissGypsy on being regarded as a food snob.
I make my own salsa (granted I don’t grow my own tomatoes, mainly because I can’t seem to do so here in Las Vegas and those darned caterpillars). I love to cook and experiment. My specialties are Mexican dishes and pasta sauces.
Most of my friends rib me for making sauces from scratch (not just using jar sauce) and the salsa making… but of course they gobble it right up when it’s put in front of them (oooh that’s way better than store bought)
Maybe we should have a recipe swap 
(now I would have to write up recipes for some of what I make, since I have no actual recipes for them)
Life is a series of Bell curves
My IQ has been mesaured as being on the high end … I am not concernened about the number, as I consider it not a measurement of ability, but a measurement of one small slice of human potential…
Here is an anecdote that relates my “bell curve” analogy. One time, back when I was foolish enough to work as a museum curator, I had the experience of attending a conference at a large hotel that was also hosting a conference for people with mental disabilities. Amongst “our” group, we had many stereotypical “absent minded proffesors” (forgot to tie shoes, couldn’t be bothered to remember to wear shoes, etc).
Many in the “other” ( mentaly disabled) group displayed similar “traits”.
On the second morning, a waitress at the cafeteria asked me “which group are you with?”. It wasn’t meant as an insult or slight, it was just the question of an overworked employee who, from her point of view, couldn’t see the difference, between a bunch of people that talked slowly, and a bunch of people that talked slowly…
Both groups “live” at each end of the “intellectual” bell curve… the waitress (I assume) was at or near the middle. From her point of view, we were both hard to comprehend or understand…
regards
FML
Well, I get to live the rest of the year knowing that there is no way I will top THAT!
Thank you for the laugh. And reminding me that there are far more similarities between any two groups of people than their are differences. I’m sorry, did I type that too fast? 
thank you for “getting it” auntbeast…a lot of people don’t…
fml
I’ve been really skinny all my life. I’ve gotten a lot of hostility from other females about it, much of it thinly disguised as “just joking”. Buying clothes has always been miserable…I’m thirty-six but I generally start shopping in the little girls department, then try the little boys department as well. I’ve just about given up on ever growing any boobs.
I have gained a little weight in the past couple of years, at least to the point where I don’t feel so freakish, but I still have trouble with these issues.
I’m a tall woman (5’9) with long legs. Finding pants that are long enough to cover my ankles without leaving a big space in the crotch is a trial for me. It doesn’t help that I HATE shopping. Plus, sometimes I feel like a lanky giraffe when I’m standing around shorter women. Wearing heels makes me feel self-conscious.
IRL, I have a mellow, laid-back, relaxed disposition that has earned me compliments through the years. I can hide nervousness well. But sometimes I come across as disinterested or unanimated, like in interviews where they expect you to be lively and perky. Naturally being a cool cat is not always a good thing.
“I can also recall entire conversations, verbatim, from up to a couple years ago, but only with certain people.”
I would seriously consider selling my soul for this ability. My husband can do this to a pretty impressive degree and it gives him a serious leg up when we argue. Me, I get lost in the details, I remembers gists of conversations and feelings, but that is it. :eek:
Being Anglo isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.
We’re supposed to be the top dogs, the elite, the ones who get life’s perks.
It isn’t so.
It seems that every other cultural grouping can point to some advantage they have over us Canadians of English Descent: better-looking people, or a more stable family structure, or stronger roots, or greater street smarts, or a more vibrant music scene, or a greater sense of style, or more connections overseas, or more languages spoken, or something.
We Anglos are the blandest common denominator.
My grandparents were all English, but I’m Canadian, so I got the bad teeth but not the cool accent. I’m not bitter. No, not at all.
I have the largest vocabulary of anyone I know (voracious reading will do that to ya), but I’ve (mostly) stopped dumbing down my speech. If you don’t understand the word I just used, ask me. If I intimidate anybody, I’m unaware of it.
I’m an NT woman, too. I don’t always understand where “normal” women are coming from.
Being rich, handsome, intelligent, talented and extraordinarily well-hung are not what they’re cracked up to be, I’ve heard.
Most things perceived as highly desirable come at a cost that’s higher than what those who don’t possess them often realize.
I am also tall for a woman (5’9") and curvy. And blonde.
I used to be really thin and model - now I am best described as hourglass (as opposed to angular hourglass).
I would rather men would stop talking to my boobs, but have gotten past it.
I used to be one of those “stop traffic” kind of girls.
I hated it (most of the time) and it was the reason I got out of the army the first time.
Having a child with me helps
In the “wah-wah-wah” category I am easily multi-orgasmic. I know that it a great thing except when your lover is feeling competitive, “How many times that time?”
I am sure you all feel very sorry for me now.
Smart girls definitely have it hard in society, especially if they look like the stereotypical smart girl. That’s all I’m sayin’.
I just wish at least one of these smart, sexy women would be unmarried and interested when I’m in the area.
Being in my forties isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, either.
I’d just like to offer an apology for my first post. I thought this was going to be another “everyone’s jealous of me, I just know it!” kind of thread. I hate those.
One thing that I have going for me is that I know how to make people laugh. The upside is that I’m perceived as charming, friendly, approachable, and easy-going. People brighten up around me and also become more approachable, more friendly. Plus, it’s not that hard for me to cheer myself up. But the downside is that I can’t shut it off. I make people laugh when we should be serious (like when the boss is talking during a meeting). Or, I make myself laugh at inappropriate moments, like when people have hurt themselves.
I also think it’s hard for people to take me seriously, because my default personality is goofy. That means subordinates laugh at me in front of my face, or people don’t quite believe me when I’m trying to relay important information. Or, they misread my mood and think “it’s time to joke around with monstro” when I really need them to focus on what I’m telling/asking them. What usually happens is they crack a joke, I laugh and continue with the banter because that’s what they expect me to do, and then I forget what I was supposed to tell them.
Sometimes I’m afraid my sense of humor makes people think I don’t care about anything.
I’m only in my 20’s, but amen to that.
Okay, I have to ask. I know you and Quiddity aren’t from the Northwest Territories. So what the heck is an NT woman?
Unless I think about it, I tend to speak a little like Frasier Crane. I love words and good writing, and unconsciously embellish my speech with picturesque phrases. After more than one disbelieving look, I’ve learned to tone it down and speak in “business English”.
That’s why I like to speak with one of my bosses, whose parents were English. He is not intimidated by creative speaking or extensive vocabularies. It was also a joy to speak with a previous boss of mine from 1985 or so; he was an Oxford-educated Englishman who spoke three or four languages. I miss his elegant and ironic conversation.