We were ugly children.
It’s not a matter of opinion; you don’t have to say, “Oh, err… no, you were cute.” It’s fine. We accept it and we’ve come to terms with it.
Over the years, we have reflected at length on our ugly childhood. There was the eye patch stage (an optometrist would never do that to a beautiful kid), there was the no front teeth phase (ugly children lose both their front teeth at the same time), there was the bowl cut phase (Mum… we’re females), and there was even the bulky retainer phase (which, in hindsight, was so very necessary).
It’s not that we think we are attractive now, but there is definite improvement. One of us grew into our ears, and the other (pictured above) tragically had Benjamin Button syndrome – she was born an old man and has gradually grown into her skin.
At times it was tough. Our grandmother assured us that we were just ugly ducklings who would “blossom” (she actually said that… she had no deteriorative brain condition to excuse it… she just really thought we were ugly).
It is no secret the world is skewed in favour of beautiful people. They make more money, we trust them more, the law favours them, their grandmother’s don’t call them ‘ugly ducklings’ when they’re five years old, and they don’t become the ‘ermahgerd girl’… without their permission.
But there’s a case to be made for the benefits of being an ugly child. Here are just a few:
You develop hobbies and/or talents.
Ugly kids have to entertain other hobbies, and develop important life skills in order to compensate for the way they look. You will often find that ugly children are great with computers, or are high academic achievers, or find a sport that they excel in. Only an ugly kid would learn how to juggle. Beautiful children do not have the time or the resolve to pursue such a pastime.
You learn very young that life isn’t fair.
We feel a lot of sympathy for beautiful people. They are brought up under the impression they are special and important. Life favours them, and their childhood only gets their hopes up. We, on the other hand, knew from a distressingly young age that life was never going to be fair. We got all the disappointment out of the way during our first encounter with a mirror.
There were/are no superficial friendships.
Growing up, we never had to worry that people only liked us for the way we looked. We never had to filter through people to find those who were worth being friends with. It’s not like our friends were going to drop us if we got a bad haircut (because we already had a bad haircut). The friends we made when we were five are still our friends, because they are clearly good, non-judgemental human beings (#thanks guys).