She never believed it every time her mother’s friends told her that she was pretty. They say the same things about each other friend’s daughters. Of course they’d do it so their friends can say the same to their own children. No, she never believed them.
And how could she?
When she looked into the mirror, she could see nothing pretty, and everything drab and ugly. Starting from her tempest of a tangle of hair, to her eyeglasses which made her eyes even larger than a startled deer’s, and this stick figure of a body — not an ounce of woman.
Oh how she hated looking in the mirror. How she hated her reflection.
And so she found sanctuary in baseball caps and loose clothes, to hide her unsightly self from the world. She basks in the shadow, relishes in it, seeks comfort in it. The darkness is her best friend.