When I was about six years old, my mum was brushing my hair before school when I asked her a question. "Am I ugly?" I asked, looking at her and my reflexion in the mirror before me.
She gasped in horror at the question and stopped running the brush through my hair. She said no (cheers, mum!), then asked me where this question was coming from. A boy in my class had called me ugly on the playground.
That was the first time I remember feeling bad about myself. But that was just the beginning of a very long, very troubled relationship with myself. That boy on the playground was far from the last person to call me ugly. He was certainly not the last person to make me question my sense of self. Read more...
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