I am ugly.
My body is disgustingly unattractive. My breasts are fatty and flabby. I have a stomach roll my doctor once expressed dismay about in a hospital ER. I’m 45 pounds overweight and nothing short of a surgery seems set to change that. I have hair where women should not have hair. I spend inordinate amounts of time and money removing it from my chin, my jawline, my ugly breasts. I know it is caused by steroid injections that saved my life twice upon a time, but understanding doesn’t change it. Hair, where there should never be hair, is ugly.
I stopped shaving my mons because the skin isn’t pink and pretty beneath that coarse brown, curly hair. It’s ugly… dark brown and lumpy from the hair follicles. I try to trim it but really, why am I bothering? No one touches there, even when I have sex. My lover rarely even probes between my labia or inside my sex until he’s ready to use his cock to do so. There’s hair around my anus too… And I’m not flexible enough to remove that. My lover has never told me I’m ugly (and he’d be kindly indignant if I expressed such a forceful opinion on he matter, too), but I still know it’s true.
My face is ugly. My eyes are standard blue, and a genetic condition makes them behave strangely, so some people assume I am ignoring them or being disrespectful when my eyeballs roll about in my head during meetings or interviews. My hair is nondescript brown. My curls turn frizzy and stick out when my hair is cut too short. However, my lover dislikes it long as it gets in the way and in his mouth when we cuddle, and he’s turned off by that. My skin is oily despite expensive skincare products and facials. I am nearly 40 and it’s still likely I’ll have big ugly pimples or ingrown hairs on it any given day… I have one giant cyst under my chin right now.
There are only so many positions to have sex so he doesn’t have to look at or touch my ugly face. He always fucks me from behind, but it wasn’t always that way. Once upon a time he kissed me while we fucked, and when we both came he would kiss my navel reverently. Now my stomach is covered with long brown hairs and is ugly. He hasn’t kissed it in years, even when I fondly remember that out loud.
Tonight, even after I cried, he didn’t kiss me goodnight. We rarely kiss more than a light peck, even to say good morning, goodnight, welcome home. I can’t remember the last time his tongue was in my mouth. But yes I do brush my teeth and they are straight. I crave kisses. I ache for him to slide his fingers into my hair and kiss me silly, but I am satisfied when he kisses my temple and wishes aloud that I was happy. How can I be happy when I am ugly?
Anal sex has always aroused him, and I’m grateful because I can participate in that without turning him off. He’s the only man who has ever been interested in my ugly body. Ever. I’ve been kissed sexually by less than 5 people, and 2 of those were just once. One of those was really a cruel adolescent boy joke. One man smelled awful and we kissed more than once because I thought it might be the last time I was ever kissed. That man was more interested in toying with my mind than looking at me. My husband is the only man I’ve ever had sex with and the only man I will ever have sex with. He can enjoy anal with me from behind. When he no longer wants me, I will be the same ugly female I was at 16, only without hope of physical affection ever again. Even when he doesn’t want to fuck me anymore, I’ll be happy to sink down on my knees and suck him off. He doesn’t have to look at me when I do that.
I do think my feet might be pretty right after a pedicure, but I can’t think of any other part of my body that might be considered pretty, or sweet, or sexy, or alluring. Even my backside is less than it ought to be. It’s neither plump and full, nor trim and fit. It is just there, wrinkly skin and all. Probably has ugly hair on it too, now that I think about it. At least I can’t see it there.
I wish someone, anyone, would tell me I am beautiful. Or even pretty. Or cute.
I almost published this under my online name. Almost. I’m not though. It’s not that I mind you knowing who I am. I’m ugly anyway and I’ve given up on anyone else – male or female – finding me interesting or sexually attractive. I no longer try to flirt, in real life or virtually, with men who are free to flirt. I’ve never been important to anyone but family and my lover. Still, this pity party would hurt the only man who has ever loved me and sleeps beside me now as I cry.
I couldn’t bear that.
My heart loves, fiercely, even if I am ugly. My heart breaks, silently, because I am ugly.