I call it The Ugly.
That’s not how I think of myself, I hasten to add, but rather how I’ve been encouraged to see myself through the years.
As a young girl, being teased for her red hair and freckles.
As an older girl, whose best friend told her she’d be “quite pretty” if it wasn’t for the long list of things that were apparently wrong with her.
At my first job, where everyone would assume I was ill if I turned up without a full face of makeup.
In my twenties, being repeatedly told that I “needed” to get a suntan and eat a sandwich.
In my thirties, being told by an acquaintance that I’d “look so much better” with a bit of colour in my cheeks.
The list goes on.
Of course, there have been compliments along the way, too. Somehow, though, those compliments never seem to stick: it’s always the negative barbs, the snide comments, and the throwaway remarks that stay with me, and allow me to convince myself that I’m just not good enough.
And so I called it The Ugly, as if it were some kind of mythical beast I had to fight. I’ve been fighting this beast now for most of my life, and I’ve documented the last decade or so of the battle right here on my blog.
From bad eyelash extensions and DIY haircuts to spray tans and random beauty products I saw advertised on Facebook one time, I’ve done it all (Well, almost all, anyway…), and the good thing about that is that, by trying all of these things, and making so many mistakes along the way, I’ve saved you the trouble.
I try things so you don’t have to, in other words: and you can read all about it by simply scrolling down this page…