thoughts

My mother must have been very sad to have such an ugly child as I was....especially because she had been a real beauty. Everyone kept asking her why she did not feed me, since I was so skinny, and no explanation about my being extremely picky seemed to satisfy them. So all her friends and aquaintances ended up by pitying her and being sorry for me...I felt their reluctance to play with me and rejected any mimicking by trying to act as an adult. I grew up very quickly because of that and could cope with conversation among adults, sometimes annoying them with smart replies, other times driving my parents out of thier minds with the way I stood aloof, as though autistic. I loved to let my imagination loose and live my stories with eyes wide open...

Yet mum, having been a natural beauty with big black eyes and curly dark hair , had never used anything but lipstick and thus had no idea how to make me look better. I became a skinny teenager who tried to hide her bony figure under fluffy skirts and gave her thin hair a sheep-like perm...It took me 35 years to get over the inhibitions and frustration of being plain. It took me a heart several times broken to stop waiting for prince charming who was eager to discover my beautiful soul..

 It took me 35 years till I dyed my hair red, put on a few kilos and raised my hair high. From that day on men seemed to discover that I existed, that I had a beautiful character, that I was worth loving. Children and men started telling me I was beautiful and sometimes I just couldn't suspect them of being false.

I hope to get to be 50. Strangely enough I now am more interesting than my mum was at that age, since , unlike her,I am more a woman than a mother, more interested in my appearance than she was, more self-confident. I will never be beautiful but I can draw attention upon me when I need it. Never again will I be ashamed of myself! 

My only regret is that mum has not lived to see me a woman...