I grew up being told I was hideous, fat, massive arse, had a stupid upturned nose (when the term 'ski slope nose' was in the press for the first time, there were shrieks of laughter at how stupid American women would pay thousands for a squashed nose like yours) and a face like a cat, ugly freckles all over my face, my eyes weren't a proper brown and my hair looked like a Squirrel had been drowned in a muddy puddle. There weren't any photos taken of me because I wasn't worth the cost of the film.
People were mean to me, girls in particular, but some of the boys were horrible as well and I ended up in relationships where I wasn't allowed out 'because everybody knows what you'll be like' and I was pressurised to not wear makeup, jewellery or anything that drew attention, whether by shape, cut or colour. In at least a couple of jobs, I was absolutely victimised by women I thought were the most amazing looking, lucky women because they looked incredible; tall, slim, blonde, tanned, full breasts, long legs. I figured they didn't like ugly people. I did have a really good looking boyfriend at one point, but he seemed to be more worried about what people would think if they saw him with me, as though he 'could do better' (even though that was what a few people had said to me about him and I didn't believe them more fool me ).
Somebody I went to school with sent me a photo out of the blue from when I was seventeen and had been out with my friends from college for a day, so my hair was raggedy from salt water and I was wearing a t-shirt and a pair of long shorts borrowed from one of the lads in the group because I didn't wear short as I was so fat.
Fuck.
I had deep red-brown, slightly wavy long hair, large green eyes, golden freckles and a small, slightly upturned nose. And, absolutely honestly, I had the shape of a model - I would have been a size 6 at most with a natural 19 inch waist. It was like looking at a photo of somebody else, because I barely recognised what I was looking at.
I don't know whether people were mean to me because I looked that good (but had absolutely no idea about it) and wanted to bring me down a peg or five, but what I saw in that old, blurry photo of me was a beautiful teenaged girl who was told by everybody that she was ugly.
I showed DP the photo, thinking he wouldn't believe it could be me. He said 'Of course that's you. It's obvious to everybody how gorgeous you were and still are - remember when we first met and I kept making excuses to go and talk to somebody else, then coming back again every time I saw you? I was running away because I couldn't believe you were talking to me and didn't want to make an idiot of myself by asking you out - they were telling me 'Don't be stupid, she likes you, go back and talk to her' - and when I picked you up for that date, I didn't smile and say 'Wow' to be nice - you looked incredible in that dress'.
Still don't feel like it, even though I know now I was once upon a time - but I suppose I scrub up alright for an old, fat bird. And DP's gone from looking like a startled teenaged girl with his goth hair to giving Stanley Tucci a run for his money. So I'm doing alright with it.