That’s what I am.
Square chin, straight thick eyebrows, droopy eyes. Long unruly hair like black hay, a mouth that looks like its always frowning. Fat nose, chubby jowls, high cheekbones. Splotchy pale skin.
I always look unhappy, someone told me. I don’t know how. I guess all the frowning from a difficult past became permanent.
I look frail to people, distant and unapproachable.
Smiling expands my fat nose, cringes my eyes into two thin slates,scrunches my fat cheeks into a playdough oval.
So, when a person tells me I’m pretty and its all in my head, of course I’ll get upset. That’s a lie. A terrible lie.
Mirrors don’t lie, photographs don’t lie. So of course this ugliness is true.
I’ve been called so many times before in my past too.
So one person who claims beauty on me is a blatant liar.
And he’ll find a very beautiful girl for his own someday.
And I’ll just remain ugly and pitiful and dreadfully alone.
Or lied to.
And that phrase “Beauty is found within” is very rarely found anywhere anymore.
People find each other first through physical attractiveness. And they judge strangers on a whim by appearance.
That phrase may be true, but its margins are growing thinner every day.
But I’m ugly, and I suppose that’s okay.
I like me.
I like me very much.
I just wish others would like me to.