The Un-Beautiful Ones 

I am Un-Beautiful. Not ugly, thank God I’m not part of the Ugly Ones. I’m just not beautiful. I am the opposite of beauty.

I wish I could tell you I was as pretty as an autumn leaf floating down from a tree, or as attractive as melted butter sunshine. I wish I had a perfect pearly smile, or eyes fringed with long, dark lashes. I wish I could tell you of my porcelain, smooth skin, tinged with a peachy pinkness on the apple of my cheeks.

But I can’t tell you that. Because you told me I’m not beautiful. You, and many others. Some of you said it directly, and some of you implied it through subtle actions.

You know, there was a time, when I thought I was beautiful. I loved looking at myself in the mirror, admiring my slender neck, my big dark eyes and hair that was long and silky, and ran down my back like a waterfall in the moonlight.

But then I met you. And you told me I wasn’t beautiful. You said, I didn’t have the right skin color, the acceptable weight, or eyelashes that weren’t long enough. I didn’t understand any of that though.

I looked in the mirror (it was my favorite in the entire house, with it’s delicate gold frame, and the quirky giraffes painted on the wall besides it), and saw beauty. I saw sincerity in my eyes, I saw laughter on my lips. So, then, why did you say I was not beautiful enough? You implied that I was alright, but not beautiful, not gorgeous, not extraordinary. Why would you say that when all I saw was beauty.

Some would say I was vain, and maybe I was. But then aren’t all of us vain? Don’t all of us like admiring ourselves in the mirror? At least I never broke the illusion of your own beauty with scathing remarks. You are so vain, you need to look down upon us to feel beautiful.

At least I am not an Ugly One. You, the Beautiful Ones, do not spare those poor souls with your ridicule. I would say I feel sympathy for them, but I’m also secretly glad that I’m better than them. I wish I were you, but at least my fate is better than theirs.

You are sending us away soon. And for that I despise you. Sometimes I think you actually might be the Ugly One, for all the hurt you cause. But we are not allowed to say that out loud, because for now, you are the ruling ones. Have been for many centuries. You see, beauty casts a spell, a spell so powerful that even us who hate you, come under the spell. We follow you around, trying to absorb your beauty. It never works, but your spell let’s us think it might work someday.

But now you are sending us away, and I won’t be able to bask in the warmth of your beauty, and dream of a day when I’m as beautiful as you. I don’t want to go the place where you are sending us. I have heard it is dark, and sad there. There is no sunlight, just rain and dreariness.You’re sending us away because there is no need for us to litter your beautiful days with our lack of beauty.

But at least I won’t have to see you. I would be with my own, the Un-Beautiful ones. We would feel comfortable among one another.

That is better than the fate of the Ugly Ones, I’ve heard. It is said that their fate is worse than death. In a twisted way, I’m happy that at least some have a fate worse than me. I know that’s not very nice of me, but you finished all the good that there was in me, with your cold, demeaning looks.

I’m happy that you’re sending me away, so that you don’t have to look at me, and I don’t have to look at your beauty with envy. I’m happy that I’ll be with others who are just like me.

I have to go now, pack away my beautiful mirror, for we aren’t allowed to look at our reflection where you are sending us. I am happy. I really am. At least I won’t have to be in your presence, and feel not good enough.

I have to go now, your people are rounding us up, like sheep, so that we can be sent away to our new home.

But before I go, can I tell you a secret?

Deep inside my heart, I wish I was you, as beautiful as you. And I wish you were me, so that you’d understand the pain of not being beautiful.


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