Something I found in a folder from college. I have been coming across a lot of blogs/posts about self-image lately, and it made me think about this posting. So here it is.
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In the story, when the ugly duckling grew up, he became a beautiful swan, the most beautiful swan, loved and admired by all the other swans. But before he attained that undreamed-of status, he spent half his lifetime being taunted and bullied because of his ugliness. I always held dear the story of the ugly duckling, feeling a sense of empathy—even unity—with that poor, unaccepted creature.
As I was growing up, the other kids left me in no doubt about my attractiveness—or lack thereof. I endured years of being laughed at for my awkwardness, and even at times being physically attacked, all unjustifiably, I thought. And when in sixth grade I began to wear glasses, the teasing became even worse and lasted well into my high school years.
As a teenager, I never had the succession of boyfriends—or even dates—that other girls seemed to have. I didn’t have parties or go to them (I was never invited). I never kissed up to the in-crowd. Why waste the time and energy, I figured; they would never accept me anyway. So except for a few friends who weren’t part of the in-crowd either, I was pretty much a loner. As a result, I always felt pathetic, rejected, like the ugly duckling no one wanted around.
By the time I was a senior in high school, however, many of the taunts that had been aimed at me had stopped. Apparently the fun had gone out of picking on me because, as parents the world over advise their children, I had refused to act out when teased, and so my schoolmates had had to find another victim to harass. Then just before graduation, when yearbook signing became the favorite pastime, I finally began to receive some of the acceptance I had sought for so long. My yearbook began to fill up with praises regarding the nice person I was for never losing my temper when I was picked on, and kind remarks about the brave, confident person I was for being able to stand alone and never giving in to peer pressure.
In the time that has elapsed since those adolescent days, I have often wondered what those seemingly admiring classmates would have said if they could have seen inside my heart during those years. They all assumed the teasing didn’t bother me because I didn’t let on that it did; I was always able to come back with a funny wisecrack or a good-natured statement of agreement with what they had said. Little did they know that when I was agreeing with them, I was silently acknowledging that they were right. I was ugly. I was someone that no one would want to date. As for their taunts not bothering me, well, that wasn’t true either. I was just good at hiding how much it hurt. Not even my best friend or my family knew of the hundreds of silent tears that soaked my pillow at night. Tears of humiliation, pain, loneliness. Bitter tears that didn’t heal the broken heart within. Would my schoolmates have thought so highly of the girl I knew and didn’t love?
At times now, anger at their unfairness boils up within me. If they had indeed thought I was such a wonderful person, then why didn’t they show it? Why did they spend years taunting and teasing, never saying a kind word to me? Why was I never invited to parties or included in the in-crowd fun?
Now, when I run into these same people on the street during one of my short visits to the hometown, they strike up conversations with as though in high school we had been the best of friends. Of course, nice person that I am, I speak nicely, if a bit coolly, to them before going on my way. Still wishing, of course, that I possessed the confidence and satisfaction with life that I hoped I put forward.
It’s at these times that the Ugly Duckling Syndrome returns and I recall my adolescent dreams of fairy tale justice. Throughout middle school and high school, and even into college, I fervently hoped that some hand of magic or twist of fate would render me a striking beauty overnight so that by the time my class reunions rolled around I would be beautiful, as well as rich and famous—the envy of everyone in my class. Like most unrealistic fantasies, that dream has not come true. Ugly ducklings of the animal world might transform almost magically into swans, butterflies or other lovely, graceful creatures, but ugly ducklings of the human variety don’t seem to do so. At least I didn’t. At least not in my eyes.
There have been men in my life, including my wonderful husband, who have assured me time and again that I am “pretty,” “beautiful,” “gorgeous,” even “sexy” and “hot.” As much as I longed to hear those words from a man, I always uncomfortably wondered if they needed glasses or a psychiatrist, or suspected them of toying with me, laughing behind my back. What any of them saw in me—or believed they saw in me—I can’t imagine. I still look in the mirror each day and see the same plain face, plain hair and spectacled eyes tat have stared back at me since sixth grade. Sure, the baby fat is gone, and a few laugh lines have taken up residence in the corners of my eyes, but it’s still the same face.
Now that I am older and somewhat wiser than I was in high school, having earned a Master’s degree and digested countless self-help books, I have at last begun to grudgingly accept who I am and what I am not. I have found a career that I want to pursue when the kids are older, and I’m trying to carve myself a niche in this world. For the most part, I have stopped trying to look like the popular models or movie stars who are currently “in vogue” and have begun to work on enhancing the qualities I do have rather than trying to create qualities I wish I had. Of course, everything my parents told me about looks not being as important as inner qualities and about in-crowd acceptance not guaranteeing happiness has proven true. And I have found that the key to inner happiness, as preached by countless psychiatrists, psychologists and other experts, does indeed lie in accepting myself for who I am.
Still, in the moments of weakness or self-pity that still erupt from time to time, I find myself thinking back to that favorite fairy tale and wondering what really happened beyond that particular happily-ever-after. Did the ugly-duckling-turned-beautiful-swan truly live happily ever after, or did he look back on those days of his ugly youth and feel that the ugly duckling of old still existed, just as I continue to see in the mirror the unattractive, unpopular girl who still lurks beneath this confident outer shell?
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