People always say, “if looks can kill,” but words are far more destructive. From a cruel comment behind your back to a horrible insult thrown out in anger, some comments hurt so much they stay with you for the rest of your life. We all carry memories like that with us—but these people's stories take the cake. Whether it was from a parent, a friend, or just a stranger on the street, these insanely horrible comments made us question our faith in humanity.
After interviewing for a job as a personal assistant, he said, "My wife wouldn't let me hire a pretty girl. She'll be fine with you."
I was in elementary school, and about 20 of us kids were playing tag at recess. The girl who's "it" races by me, and I'm running away and yelling and laughing along with everyone else. She stops, looks directly at me, and says, "I'm not chasing you," and runs off. It was the first time anyone went out of their way to single me out and make me feel like dirt.
"We were never friends, dude. I saw you sitting alone one day, felt bad, and you wouldn't leave me alone after that." That hurt—but he was just getting started. Then he unloaded a bunch of embarrassing secrets I shared with him when I thought we were best friends from third to fifth grade. He said all of this in the beginning of middle school/sixth grade when I went to go sit by him and all of his newfound friends.
Coming from a small town, my entire class and half the school heard him say all of it. That piece of garbage never stopped bullying me up to the day I graduated.
In elementary school, I was a really shy kid, and I was especially afraid of singing. Well, our teacher tells me I must sing or I'll fail. When I start singing, she covers her ears and puts her head on the desk. That just broke me, and I've never sang in front of anyone again.
"Oh no, those seats are for handicapped people...and people with heart problems." My friend was born with half a heart and has a hard time breathing sometimes. You really wouldn't be able to tell unless he told you. Once, when we were 13, we went to a Patriots practice where you can watch them for free, and the first row is always dedicated for handicapped people.
My friend hates the fact that he can't play sports, go too high in the air etc., because of his heart, so he tries to stay as normal as he can. Well, it was packed that day, and he was having trouble breathing again. We took him to the first row, and behind us are two college girls who politely inform us that that row is for handicapped people.
My friend’s dad calmly replies with how my friend is having trouble breathing and that he is, in fact, handicapped. They don't believe him, a small argument ensues, and staff are called over. It's a mess. His dad figures everything out. The staff are informed and aware. Not two minutes after that, another person is coming to sit down. "Sorry, lady, that row is for handicapped people only...and those with heart problems, apparently."
I don't think I've ever been that angry in my lifetime. My friend had quite the struggle with it as did his parents. To this day, he's conscious about it and hates when people bring it up. The pair keep talking about it genuinely not believing that he has anything wrong with him. Eventually, his Dad starts telling him to turn around and take his shirt off.
Y'see, when he was born, they had to stick a bunch of tubes inside him and open up his chest, so he's pretty marked up. If they had seen that, it might have convinced the two, but no self-conscious 13-year-old wants to take off their shirt exposing their irregular chest in front of a large crowd. Eventually the pair leave, but I remember my friend being incredibly sad, reduced to tears even, the rest of the day.
In a rather dark time in my life, someone said, "You're so awkward. No wonder nobody likes you." All of my insecurities were confirmed in that moment.
I used to work in a call center. A couple years ago, my mom had a really bad hernia and was in the hospital for surgery very suddenly. 90% of her stomach, part of her intestines, and her pancreas were inside her chest cavity, and her lung had partially collapsed to make room for all the other organs in there. I had rushed four hours to the hospital to be there when she got out of surgery.
A couple days later, I was back at work still really upset about my mom having been in the hospital. A man called in having an issue with one of his sports channels and got very upset and told me, "You can't even help me out with my sports. I sure hope your parents never need you to take care of them!" Right then, I had the most cathartic moment that I have ever experienced at that job.
I told him exactly what had happened to my mother just days prior. I told him that he was incredibly rude and that one channel being out on his TV did not give him the right to treat me the way he was treating me. Then I told him his ticket was being escalated to the office for review in the morning and hung up. Then I went to the bathroom and cried for a good 20 minutes.
My mother and I had a big falling out. She texted me a whole lot of nasty things, but the one that hurt the most said, “You guys will make the best family ever. Can't wait to see your kids. Awwww, so cute. If you can have any! Lol.” This was a little while after my fiancée was diagnosed with ovarian cancer, and we were unsure of what would have to happen.
This was two years ago, and we have not spoken since, even walking past each other in the street like total strangers. It’s okay. There’s a happy ending. I’m literally typing this at the hospital as my partner gets ready to feed our one-week-old baby girl, and we are all prepared to go home tomorrow.
I tried too hard to please my parents as a kid. When I was about 25, there was a family conversation that ended up covering how and why I didn't make much money as a newspaper reporter. When someone made reference to my master's degree, my mother said in a disgusted voice, "What a waste." Nothing ever hurt me more, and ever since, I have not cared what anyone else thinks of me.
"I'm better than you because my parents are still married." That was literally twenty years ago, and I still hate that woman.
When I was in 6th grade, I was in a group of about 10 girls, and they took turns telling me everything they hated about me. I’m autistic, and they’d even exaggeratedly imitate some of the weird things I'd do until I ran away crying.
I am a totally confident dude and extremely happy with my appearance aside from one thing. I think I have a small mouth. I have never told anyone about that insecurity, and it’s never been even hinted at by others. Anyway, to cut a long story short, I was asking a patron to leave a pub I was running, and he proceeded to scream, "Screw you! Screw you and your little mouth!"
My high school makes the entire 11th grade go on a leadership camp before they start grade 12. During this camp, we're separated from our normal friendship groups and pretty much forced to socialize and complete activities with people you normally don't hang out with. So, I'm socializing with other people, which included one of the hot girls from the popular group, Laura.
One exercise we had to do was climb a high ropes course with a partner. I asked if I could do it by myself, so the adult in charge let me. I'm scaling this thing pretty easily, and a few other guys from the popular group are cheering me on yelling, "Go on, you're a tank son!" I also notice Laura is watching me and impressed, which was something that felt good. I was riding high—but it was about to come crashing down.
I finish, and we move onto the next exercise which is another 2-person course. The adult asks who wants to go first. I'm still feeling pretty confident, so I jump up and say yep, I'll go. I needed a partner, so he asked one of the girls if they'd like to go with me. The one he asked looks at me and goes, "Eww, no." Laura was standing right in front of me and laughed. Any confidence I accumulated was gone, and I felt terrible.
I was in junior high, and I told my step-dad I wanted to be a scientist. He told me that I would never succeed as a scientist because it takes creative thinking and that I couldn't think creatively. It basically destroyed what little relationship we had.
I used to be a restaurant manager. A customer booked a birthday party. She was really awkward, but I did everything she asked for. She ordered sandwiches but decided on the night she had 10 gluten intolerant guests. I sorted it for no extra charge, I brought her wine and chocolate out of my own pocket, and I went the extra mile to make sure she had a good party. Halfway through the night, I heard her calling me "Fat Nat" and other mean names that upset me.
I sat with a group of guys at lunch who never included me in their weekend plans. One Friday night, they called and invited me over. I went over to the house where they were and rang the doorbell. Nobody answered, but I could hear them giggling inside. I stormed off and drove home and then probably wrote some emo nonsense on my computer.
On Monday, I walked by their table, and one guy says, "Hey man, why didn't you come over on Friday?" Everyone cracked up. I never sat with them again.
I came out to my mom when I was in the 8th grade. My girlfriend at the time had told her mom who disapproved and threatened to tell my mom. I figured my mom would rather hear it from her own daughter. I come out to her, which was incredibly difficult, and she looks at me and asks, "Is it because boys don't find you attractive? Is that why you like girls?"
It's stuck with me ever since. I have never been able to see myself as anything other than ugly after that.
I was a very tomboyish little daddy's girl growing up. Once my mom told me, "The reason your Dad and I decided to have your sister was so that I could have a daughter." That one stung.
"You're easily forgotten." It was said to me by my best friend after I was the only one in my class not invited to a pool party. I guess she thought that was a better alternative to telling me about my classmates not liking me.
Once, I had my closest friends over, and we were playing video games as per usual. Then one of the “group leaders” decides we should order pizza, but to his house, which is a five-minute walk away. I was last to walk out of the room because I was tidying up after everyone. My friend turns to me and says, "You can't come. I don't want you in my house."
I was extremely excited when I started my job, and I came in with a real go-getter attitude hoping to really prove myself and stun everyone. About 4 months in, I was told that I had been and was still acting very arrogant, and it was leaving a bad taste in everyone's mouth. It genuinely crushed me because of how excited I was.
The whole time I thought I was doing really good, and I was impressing them by catching on really quick in training only to find out it had the exact opposite effect. Now, I have a few people who still look at me that way, and I can tell. I lost my drive for a good while after that. I even started looking around for a different job for a bit before I decided I'm not going to let it get me down. I'm still going to impress everyone just by trying to be humble while doing it, I guess.
An ex-girlfriend of mine cheated on me and left me. I had to see her on a regular basis. She had gotten three of our mutual friends to harass me via text message, and I had declined to respond. The next time she saw me, she told me that I was, "A pathetic human being who would never amount to anything, a useless waste of space who can't do anything worthwhile, doesn't have a single creative bone in his body that no one likes and would go nowhere in life."
That hit me. Hard. It still hurts. However, that also turned me around some. It's 3 1/2 years later, and I'm known by a lot of my friends for making delicious liquors. I am a Blacksmithing Teaching Assistant on the weekends. My metal work is creative and unique. I'm cooking BBQ that wins the work competitions, and I have a house of my own now. She no longer has anything to say even if she wanted to.
I was on the softball team in high school and missed a fly ball as an outfielder. The next inning was the last one, and the game was tied. I was up to bat, and one of my teammates said, "Well, Dishsoap's up to bat. Maybe if we're lucky she can do something right." I struck out.
I'm adopted, and periodically throughout my childhood, I would hear the words, "I will never have the daughter I've always wanted," when my mother didn’t approve of something I did. They would both remind me often that I had been specially chosen by them, so this knowledge made my mind boggle even more.
My mother was unhappy with me because I didn't like church, didn't want to sing in the choir, and didn't like piano lessons. Nothing like that good old Christian love and acceptance of all people. It was my mother who taught me religion was ridiculous through her hypocritical behavior my entire life.
My sister and I got into a heated debate about beating your kids, and I bought up the higher rates of their early ends. Knowing I have a history of depression, she looks me right in the eyes and says, "Well, at least then we'd stop getting calls from the school about you."
When I was about 8 or 9, my mom and I were walking the dogs in a park near a ravine. I had this big stick I found, you know how it is as a kid when you find that awesome stick, and I was going around knocking it on trees, rocks, whatever was around. I was just a kid in a park with a stick. Suddenly, I came across this bowl just sitting in the grass.
It looked like it was made of either coloured glass or plastic, and little 8 or 9-year-old me couldn't figure out what it was made of. Curiosity got the best of me and seeing as I had my new awesome stick, I decided to give it a little tap to see. I didn't even hit it that hard or maybe I did, I don't know, I was a kid, and it shattered into a ceramic mess with shards of blue everywhere in the grass.
Out of nowhere, the trees? the creek? Seriously, where. The. Heck. Did. She. Come. From? This lady stomps over and starts SCREAMING at me incoherently. Apparently, she would bring a bowl to the park to give her dog water. I was used to my dogs just drinking out of the creek, so this idea had never dawned on me before I tapped it with my stick.
Now I was a good kid. I stayed out of trouble, had good grades, all that jazz, and I knew it. I knew I wasn't an awful kid. But for some reason, I'll never forget the horrible words that lady said to me: “You're a terrible child. You're nothing but trouble." This was the only time as a kid that someone called me a bad kid, and it stuck with me for way too long. I still think about it sometimes and feel bad for breaking that lady's dog bowl. But not so much for the lady, I don’t care what happens to her, but for that doggo. Sorry I broke your bowl, doggo.
On one of my college internships, I was standing in a hard hat and a reflective vest near a co-worker at a drill site next to a high school. A teacher pointed at my co-worker and told some students, "That is why you go to college. You don't want to be standing out there making minimum wage like that guy." My co-worker was a structural engineering PhD with his own practice...we used to have Christmas parties at his mansion in the foothills. It makes me question my own perceptions about people I do not know.
My older sister and I have different dads. I think my mom was either still in love with my sister's dad who we call Daddy or she just didn't love my dad, Papá, as much as she loved Daddy. Mommy and Papá used to argue a lot when I was younger, and usually he would end up taking me somewhere to get out of the house while my sister would stay with my mom.
One time, it was pretty bad, so he took me to play badminton, and when we left my mom told us to never come back. When we finally did come back, I can't remember if she'd locked us out, but I remember walking into the living room where she was sitting with my sister on the couch. Without even turning to look at me, she said, "It's fine if you go with Papá. I don't need you. I have your sister."
She's apologized for it a few times, but it really bothered me when I was younger.
A little dark, but when I was a teenager, my dad's sister liked to visit. Normally, I wouldn't see my dad drink at all. He would maybe have 1 or 2 beers if a bunch of relatives came over. When my aunt was around, she would encourage my dad to go to bars with her. She was an alcoholic working as a bartender.
He called me and asked me to pick him up because he knew I try to be a good son, and he’s picked me up when I was underage and had been drinking. He didn't care if I drank as long as I was safe about it or told him in advance that I'd need a ride. While I was driving him and my aunt home, she was passed out in back of car, and my dad was plastered.
He looked at me and said, "I wish you were born a girl, so I wouldn't be so ashamed of such a sissy son." From that point on, I stopped trying to do things to impress and gain his approval and did what I wanted to do.
"I want to get married someday, just not to you," my boyfriend of 11 years and the father of my two children told me.
I was 8 or 9 and waiting to cross the street to go to a fair that sets up across the street from my uncle's house every year. I was excited as I really love the rides. My mom took the pause as an opportunity to grab a handful of my stomach and say, "No funnel cake for you tonight, big girl." It stuck with me 14+ years later.
When I was 16, I came home about 15 minutes late for dinner, and my dad punched me in the shoulder and said he wished he would never had adopted me. Apparently, I was late for dinner more often than I thought or he just had a stressful day at work. I don't know. That was the day that I found out I was adopted.
One night, I was telling my ex about how I'd decided to major in microbiology, and in return, he said that I would never be able to get a job working with infectious diseases with a Middle Eastern last name and asked if I really thought anyone would let someone like me handle anthrax. I try not to think about him at all, but sometimes I'll remember that, and it still gets me that anyone could be that cruel.
I was 14, and I had just had my daughter alone. My mother was driving us back from the hospital after we stopped to buy the crib, changing table, and more clothes, and a stroller with my own money and got angry about the whole thing all over again. She told me I was no better than my cousin who lies and hurts her mother.
She told me her only regret in life was having me and that she would be calling my father to have me live with him. After six months of not speaking to me, my father calls me to tell me I can't stay with him because it'd cut into his drinking.
I wouldn't sleep with a guy, so he told me I had "no personality." It comes back when I find myself at a loss of things to say during a conversation.
I spent about half of my life between ages 13-17 in various placements due to truancy, suicidal thoughts, depression, probation violations, nothing serious. After I'd gotten a full-time job but was still living at my parent’s house, I was there with one of my friends from work, and my youngest sister said, "I can't wait for mom and dad to send you away again."
To this day, I don't remember what she was mad about. But that was 30 years ago, and I still remember her saying it.
I was reading a book on the couch. My dad was sitting close by and watching television. My sister walked in front of the TV. My dad said, "Jen, you're blocking the TV." A few moments later, he said, "Jackie, you are blocking the living room." I will always remember how I felt when he said that.
I have always had self-confidence issues because of a belief that nobody could ever like me. I started to get over that feeling at my last job because it felt like I was getting along with everyone, and I began to feel relaxed and accepted for the first time in my life. Then one day, I was talking to one of my coworkers who I thought I could almost call a friend, and when I said something, I heard him say under his breath, "Ugh, no wonder nobody likes you."
I tried to keep a straight face, but this was at least 5-6 years ago, and I still can't accept the thought that I will ever actually have friends.
When I was 10, my father was hurt in a work accident and was in ICU for quite some time. It was touch and go for a while. I guess my teacher had a talk with the class and told them to be sympathetic with me. At recess, the class tormenter chased me around the playground chanting, "Your dad's going to die! Your dad's going to die!"
I always wanted to be a pilot like my dad. It was the only career I was interested in. It was my first time driving on the freeway, and I only had my learner’s permit. My whole family was in the car, and I didn't know where I was going. I panicked and cut a guy off while trying to get off at my exit, and then I stopped at the light.
This is when my dad turned to me from the passenger's seat, and with a blank face told me, "You could never be a pilot. You are too emotional under pressure and could never handle an emergency situation." My dream of being a pilot ended right then and there, and over 10 years later, I am still sometimes hit with paranoia about my emotional control.
"You've got to be kidding. No one would ever date you." A high school teacher told me that after she overheard me telling a friend "I'll probably just ask X out" when we were discussing getting a group together to go watch The Corpse Bride. The same teacher later called me a Honky, which I was more confused about than anything as I'm Native American and am tan enough that most people back then assumed I was Latino.
I was around some girl’s house for an after party a couple years ago, and for some reason or another, a load of us, both guys and girls, ended up in our underwear. It was all just for fun, really. We were all pretty far gone. I walk around the corner in just my underwear, and one of the girls looks at me and just goes, "eww" and walks off. My clothes were back on quite swiftly after that.
I was crying at soccer practice because my mom had told me that I was "really annoying," and I was telling my best friend what was wrong. She responded with, "Well, sometimes you are really annoying." I was 7.
When I was engaged, my fiancé was rarely interested in talking about wedding planning. A couple times I joked that he must not really want to marry me, and he'd laugh it off and say he was just exhausted from work, etc. I was genuinely joking and not reassurance-hunting joking. A month before our wedding, he broke up with me.
I was devastated and pretty blindsided. At one point I asked him why—but his answer only made me feel worse. He said, "You saying I must not want to get married because I didn't want to wedding plan made me realize it was true. You were right; I didn't want to plan the wedding because I don't want to marry you." Granted, it was a break up, so most of what he could have said was going to hurt, but that...that hurt more than anything else. I'll never forget it, and it's been almost 5 years.
I got a stern talking-to from my dad when I was in my late teens about my attitude, behavior, etc., and I remember he said to me, "Sometimes you talk about things that you haven't the foggiest idea about, and you sound like an idiot. It's embarrassing." It hurt a lot at the time because I realised it was true. But lesson learned, I listen a lot more than I talk now.
I wasn't even present for it, the person who said it is dead, and I didn't find out about it until after she passed. I married my wife in 2000. I was estranged from my family then, mostly from my mother. I cut her out of my life right around that time. Subsequently, my mother never met my wife until there was a family reunion of sorts in 2007 in Washington, DC to celebrate the 90th birthday of my great aunt. I introduce my mother to my wife and all goes well, I think—but I didn't realize the painful truth.
Two years later, in 2009, my mother dies. I recently found out that after the party where my mother met my wife, she, my brother and his wife were in a taxi going back to the hotel. My mother asked what everyone thought of my wife, and they made the usual noises. My mother apparently made a face and said, "Well, I guess there's someone for everyone."
It still infuriates me whenever I let myself think of it. My mother was unable to let anyone else experience joy, ever. My wife has made me the happiest man on the planet, and my mother couldn't stand seeing me happy. There was a reason I cut that harpy out of my life. After was gone, I'd started re-evaluating some things trying to find peace with her and her memory and trying to cut her some slack, I guess, for all the horrible things she did to me and my siblings growing up. After that comment? Nope.
I was 14 at my first ever gig, which was at a community building where a bunch of high school punk and metal bands played on Friday night, so there were maybe 50 kids tops. My parents had finally let me go with my friends who went often. I spent all my money on new clothes and spent hours getting ready. And while waiting for the first band, this guy a few years older who was in front of me turns around and looks at me dead in the eyes and says, "You really are very hideously ugly." I still hear that voice in my head when I look in the mirror some days even ten years later.
I was your typical preteen who questioned and doubted everything about my appearance. I was extremely self-conscious, and I had acne at a young age and was bullied for being "dirty” because of it, thus began my obsession with showering and washing my face that followed well into my early twenties. One day in my seventh-grade gym class, we were playing field hockey.
Half the class played, while the rest sat at the sidelines. A hair clip had appeared on the floor, and my crush at the time laughed saying, "It probably fell out of janissie's greasy, nasty hair." Seventh grade boys are another level of rude and destructive, and I've had worse said and done to me in the ten years since, but this always stuck with me.
I was a poorer kid growing up. My parents couldn't afford to buy clothes at Macy's or Bloomingdales, and, in the 90s, it was all about what brands you wore. Thankfully, that's not really the case with kids today. They have their own new set of issues. Being poor, I had maybe 2 pairs of jeans and 4 shirts I'd cycle throughout the week and 4 sweatshirts during the winter.
I remember being in 8th grade and close to graduating sitting in class one day speaking my mind that I had hope things would be different in high school, that people would mature, and that these material things wouldn't define people, and that I was starting to get frustrated with all the hate and negativity. When out of the corner of the room, this girl Jen yelled out, "The only reason you're upset is because you don't fit in...you and your orange sweater!" I don't know why, but that statement hit me like a ton of bricks...I just shut down after that and was pretty isolated until graduation a couple of months later.
Thankfully, I was right about high school! People stopped giving a hoot about what you wore. I mean kids were coming to school with 3-foot-tall green mohawks. Oh, and Jen, she ended up having three kids and works a dead-end job somewhere in retail and drives an ugly old car. I've travelled half the country with my line of work and make great money. I hate you, Jen, and I STILL have that orange sweater!
In my sophomore year of high school, I was really socially awkward and found it difficult to make friends. I was also just beginning to get very depressed and lonely and had no confidence in my appearance and just myself in general. I was sitting with some other kids at lunch as it was a small school and we all sat together, and there was this girl I was kind of into there. None of them knew I was there, but a few of the guys were talking to this girl about who she was going to take to the Sadie's dance when I heard my name pop up.
It turned out that they suggested it as a joke, and she went on and on about how weird I was and was the ugliest kid in the school and she'd never go near me. Then she noticed me sitting there low in my seat. I thought maybe she'd at least fake an apology or something, but all she said was, "Ew, there he is! Have you been here the whole time? Why are you sitting with us?" And the whole table looked over at me. I ate most of my lunches in the bathroom after that one and transferred schools later that year. That stuck with me though.
When I worked at a movie theatre, there was a woman who was sitting on a bench outside of a theatre crying. I sat down next to her and asked her if she was okay. She was older, probably mid to late sixties, and she looked me dead in the eyes and just said, "All my friends are dead or dying." I'll never forget that. I was maybe 16.
I still remember it was in fifth or sixth grade, and I was sitting in class next to one of my guy friends. Being a very young girl, I hadn't cared about my appearance at all up until this point. The boy sitting next to me said, "Why do you have a pizza face? What's wrong with you?" That night I made my mom go to buy me full face makeup, and I wore it every day until around age 20 when I took Accutane. My acne never really was too horrible, but that kid made me start my obsession with thinking it was disgusting.
"So, I've been thinking about why I liked you so much when we started dating, and I figured it out. You gave me attention, and I liked the sense of being wanted." This is the fourth girl in a row that I've dated that dated me because I pay attention to them and satisfy their want to feel desired. It really hurt to hear and only makes my fears more real. I need to find better women.
I was a chauffeur for the Guatemalan embassy. I was invited to a dinner with the Guatemalan ambassador and the ambassador’s son had invited me. She walked up to me after I sat down and said, “This table is for my guests. You're not one of my guests. Maybe you'd like to go wait in the car or something." It was the tone more than the words.
I gave the BMW keys to the hotel valet and told the second in charge the ambassador can drive herself home. I quit that night. It was not the first time she insulted me.
I was in hospital recovering from brain surgery a week before Christmas. My mother told me, "You have completely ruined Christmas for me. I haven't even had a chance to write my Christmas cards!" That really hurt especially as she didn't come straight away when it was an emergency and I was admitted because she was doing the church flowers, which were more important.
I grew up next door to a girl who had the same birthday as me and the same first and middle names as well. Obviously, we got a lot of comparisons, which I didn't usually mind. But in sixth grade, we were in different classes, and a girl in my class walked up to me and said, "Everyone took a vote, and we all decided we'd rather have the other Heather in our class than you."
I've heard some cruel things, but that was so needless. What was the point of that information? Like they all got together and voted like we'd be required to switch or something?
I was either 9 or 10. My mom was getting her hair done, and the salon had a seating area with a couch and magazines. I was thumbing through the magazines and half listening to the conversation between my mother and the hairstylist. The hairstylist remarked that it was a good thing that I was smart because I certainly wasn't pretty. My mother agreed.
She said it in a quiet voice, but she'd smoked for years, and the raspy voice carried in the empty salon. I didn't know what to say, so I didn't say anything. I was tall, gangly, wore glasses, desperately needed braces, but my parents were divorced and fought over who would pay, had dark frizzy hair, and I had a lazy eye and psoriasis.
I was ugly, no doubt, but no one needs to hear that. I've carried that with me for nearly 30 years.
I was taking care of my boyfriend who had been drinking at the time. We were not technically a couple yet but were together for about 7 months. He was coughing in his sleep, so I asked if he was okay. He said he needed a kiss. So, I kissed him, and he said, "No, Hillary's kiss." Hillary was his ex. I told him about it in the morning, and he felt super bad, but it still comes to my mind every now and then. We're still together and are actually official now. Sometimes I feel like I'll never be good enough though.
I've always loved singing. Karaoke or musical theatre alone in the house? It's all pretty great. Once, I was in a play where I had to sing a particularly difficult song, and I was straining from the effort of practicing it again and again. The director of the play then says in front of the whole room, "You're a great singer, but boy, do you look ugly when you sing." I don't think I've sung in front of a crowd since. :(
I can still remember what the room looked like when she said it. My dad and I were sitting on the floor at the foot of the bed, and his arm was around me. My mom was standing in the doorway with that look in her eye that told me rationality was out the window for the rest of the "conversation." There was an extra flare of schadenfreude as she said, "You're absolutely horrible. A waste. I wish you had never been born. You're just like your father."
She left, and I cried. You feel like an adult at 18, but in that moment, I felt like a kid again—crying into dad's shoulder again, asking why she hates me again, and thinking myself the devil incarnate again. That was the first time I asked him why he married her. He said, "I don't know. I really don't. But I'd suffer through it again to end up with you kids." Thank God I'm more like my father.
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