I am certain that every person has something she fears.
Or if not fear, something that turns her feelings up and down.
To me, my own fear is my FACE.
Or anything about how I look. So much that my greatest anguish is for people to notice that I have that kind of face, a face that people will call a “beautiful face”, “an angelic face”, extra-ordinary pretty face, a sexy face”. Or whatever.
Just hearing people describing me as so beautiful will cringe my skin, I swear. It will bring a shock to my nerves.
You can not blame me. The disasters in my family keep on happening because people noticed that I have this kind of look.
You see, I have round eyes fanned by long thick lashes. My mother often says “Cherry Suzy” because my lips are like plump cherries.
My father also once said I have thinly perked up nose like Elizabeth Taylor's nose but with the mole of Marilyn Monroe. I know that Marilyn Monroe has a mole exactly like mine. At home, they like to tease me always, saying I am gifted with a uniquely beautiful face.
My grandmother once said that the combination of our genes gives that unique angelic look that is majestically breathtaking for women. That is because our ancestors were from a noble family and in a cycle, there is always a child born with the gift of rare beauty. They say I am that child.
If my parents thought that I was born with such luck, I felt otherwise. I never consider my face pretty or admirable. To me, this face is ugly. I do not know what they see in me.
Also, I think this is a cursed face. In whatever angle, I am never happy with the “good” looks attributed to me. I feel it is horrible to have these facial features.
That is because the many sufferings I have encountered in my life can not be counted by my fingers.
When I was eight years old, I remember that I was with my mother inside a market when a fat old man appeared from nowhere and said to me “what a beautiful child, your face is so pretty!” And the fat man suddenly snatched me and tried to kidnap me!.
I remember the next frightening event. I saw my mother chasing after us while I was forcibly dragged by the man towards his car. In a split of a second, my mother was hit by a speeding car, leaving her legs paralyzed. The said incident forever embedded in my memory. I have a much sleepless night because of that horrible day.
Up to now, my mother is in a wheel-chair. And the once lively woman of our house lost her waves of laughter with the loss of her legs. Her depression led her to have a seizure when she fell. Now she needs surgery to remove a tumor clot on her brain. And it happened because someone took a fancy on my damn face. If I were not a “beautiful child” perhaps my mother can still walk now and she would not be comatose.
That kind of horrifying event is something I hope will never ever happen again in my life. I blame my face.
So, I decided to hide my face when I was growing up. This plan is made possible by my wearing silly eyeglasses to hide my eyes and big bangs to keep my face away. Even when I went to school, I wore my fake ugly eyeglasses to make my face look weird.
Even my hair, I have to continuously trim long bangs on the sides and front to keep my cheeks away.
But in spite of my masks to hide my face, another tragic event happened.
When I was in high school, I attended a welcome party for new students and since I was a new student, my teacher forced me to come. I ponytailed my hair and exposed my face. That was my mistake.
Because even when I hid in the dark, someone noticed me. After the party ended around midnight, and I was on my way home with my friend Jenny, two young men suddenly and without warning pulled me to the black alley.
They whispered, “Come here, pretty lady”. I panicked and called for help “Help, help'! But The drunk man only leered and his fat ugly face said: “look at this beauty, let me taste that sweet red lips”.
What happened next was a struggle and fight of will to escape the assailants. Try as I might to fight off with all my strength, the sharp knife keep painfully poking at my back, the drunk man was really strong.
I thought I will say goodbye to the world when the knife pinched my skin, leaving me bloody and on the brink of death.
Suddenly, my friend Jenny threw stones at them yelling, “leave my friend alone!”.
Luckily I survived, but my close friend Jenny who answered my call of help died that hellish night. What can I do, she came to help save me and the drunkard turn his knife towards Jenny stabbing her fatally in her belly.
I again could not forgive myself. I should have not let myself be seen by the drunken man. I had become depressed for a long time. This “pretty face” was a curse.
Because I was blamed by Jenny's family as the cause of her death, I together with my invalid mother and my working father, we were forced to transfer to another city. We can not find any peace in the neighborhood after Jenny died.
After we transferred to the new city, I vowed that I would never expose my face to anyone.
I did my best to have my face hidden by my mass of curly hair and thick bangs and big thick eyeglasses above my bushy eyebrows.
My eyebrows were never trimmed, so they do look like a thick the permanent black marker above my eyes.
My lips and the mole above my lips are my only identity left, thus I often bent my head to avoid any exposure to that side too. If only I can cover myself like batman or spiderman, then I would have done too. But I guess, no one will allow me entry in the school with my mask.
My attire always consists of oversized blouses and shirts and pants to have my body always hidden since my boobs are crazily rounding and getting bigger.
To be a plain Ugly Suzy is my dream to a contented life.
My invalid mother thought I was overacting silly with hiding my beauty.
Nevertheless, in all those years, my life seemed to become normal with nobody bothering me. In fact, except for problems in our finances to pay for my college while I struggled to finish my university degree in accounting, everything was alright.
We are lucky that my father is a hard-working man. He divides his income on my mother's medical bills and my college, As to myself, I did a lot of part-time job.