I’ve just finished up with my weekly psych review, and marched back to my room. I want to be alone. Then the lady who runs the group psych meetings pops in to ask me to join. “No Thanks, not today.” But as she leaves she remarks, “That’s a pretty hair colour, is it natural? For most people such a simple compliment would raise their spirits, but for me, it’s just another reminder of how different I am, and how much I hate those differences.
What do you see when you look in the mirror? I see ugly. I may have said this already in another post, I’m losing track but the other day my mum was in she told me; “you need to up your game” when she saw that glamour of some of the other ladies in here. She probably said it jokingly, but it hurt. I’ve always felt like she never quite got the pretty daughter she’d been looking for. She’d always remark about the style and beauty of other young girls my age who came into the shop she worked in. It always felt like she was disappointed with us (me and my sister).
I don’t do fabulous nails, perfectly plucked brows or meticulously glamorised complexions, and it’s not because I don’t want to. When you can’t quite see the details of your own face very clearly in a mirror its very difficult to flawlessly and artistically beautify them with all those products that we women are meant to use.
I’m ugly and I’ll forever be ugly. That’s just the way it is.