Try Walking In My Shoes (The Impact of Being Ugly or Unattractive) 

There’s a reason I don’t watch television or YouTube, I don’t read magazines and I tend not to look at my news feed on Facebook or Twitter:

Beauty.

We have collectively become more superficial than I’ve ever know in my lifetime. It has literally reached a point where you can’t avoid it.

As an ugly person, I find it utterly depressing. I cannot watch television anymore, I don’t watch current era films or read magazines. Such things have become triggers. Even my news feed can be triggering, which is why I’ve been debating whether to just quit Facebook altogether for some time.


Phrases such as “looks aren’t important” and “beauty is on the inside” or “be your own kind of beautiful” are essentially a giant, steaming crock of snit and are insulting to me.  You cannot seriously tell me you honestly believe that nonsense, especially not in 2016.

Looks *do* matter.  While attractiveness alone won’t get you far (unless you are a model), it certainly gets your foot firmly in the door.  This applies to dating, employment, how you’re treated as a customer and friendships.  The attractive people who complain about their lives at least have the ability to go out there and get what they want, because they’re far less likely to be rejected, harassed or ridiculed.

If I were attractive at all (and been born a cisgender female), I might still have the depression I have and I’d still have ADD. But if I had the confidence to go out there without feeling like a freak, my life would’ve been drastically different from day one.  I probably wouldn’t have no self-esteem and PTSD from years of bullying and being tormented.  My dating pool would’ve been much larger, so I wouldn’t have ended up with the same partners that I’ve had, who just wanted me because they could easily control me (someone with no self worth is easier to control and more susceptible to abuse).  I’m so ugly that people pre-friendzone me, just in case I dare hit on them in the future.  You can’t tell me it doesn’t happen – so many people remind me I’m their “friend” for that reason alone (I may be ugly and depressed, but I’m not stupid).

When I first came out as transgender three and a half years ago, people literally told me I needed to plaster my face in makeup.  I even had drag queens offer to help me, out of pity.  I kept this transgender curse inside for so long because even as a child, “an ugly spastic boy can never be a girl” would circle around in my head, caused by constant name calling and exclusion.

If you disagree, that’s your prerogative.  But like the Depeche Mode song, I would love to you try walking in my shoes.  You’d make the same mistakes I made.  Perhaps you’d have ended your life a long time ago, if you had to see what I see in the mirror every day. 

Please take what I’ve written into consideration before you judge me for hating myself and having no self esteem.   

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Author: Becca

Dead to the world, dead inside.

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