I Am Too Pretty and I Can’t Live With That

Hi, my name is Jenny. I have long blonde hair, light blue eyes, a tall and slim body and people often tell me I am “too pretty”. It sounds nice, right? One would think I have an awesome life. Well, that is not the case, but the entire opposite. I hate my life.

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Ever since I was a baby, everyone around me talked about just how pretty I was! They took thousands of pictures of me, my parents dressed me in the cutest dresses, and I got all the attention from the adults.

The years started to pass and as a little girl just learning how to live, I found the attention was kind of annoying. I only wanted to play like the other kids. Go outside, roll in the grass, play soccer, jump in puddles and run in the rain. But all of that was banned for me.

My parents were overprotective. They said I was too pretty to do this, too pretty to do that. And so I couldn’t go outside and play because I could get a bruise, I could break a bone, I could stain my clothes or get a bad tan. It was horrible! I was deprived of the most beautiful parts of any childhood. I was very lonely. Since I wasn’t allowed to play, I kept turning down the offer from the other kids, and soon enough they stopped inviting me to play with them. The other kids also started to look at me weirdly. It was strange. And it would only get worse.

As I entered my teenage years, a few changes started to happen. Just like every other teenager, I started to care about the way other people saw me. I watched the girls on magazines and on T.V. and I felt pressured to look like them, to look perfect. I started taking care of my body almost obsessively. I had dozens of beauty products, for my hair, for my skin, even my teeth.

Then the worst of all happened: High School. That big and scary place, full of judgemental people and all my fears together in one space. I went in there hopeful, wishing I could make some friends and find people that felt the same way I did. However, I found the exact opposite.
On the first week, a boy asked me out. He wasn’t very handsome, and he wasn’t nice at all, he was kind of rude, actually. So I kindly turned him down, thinking it wouldn’t be a big deal. However, he got really mad about it. He told all his friends really nasty things about me that weren’t even true. I thought no other boy would ever ask me out. Rumors started to spread like fire, just the way I felt my entire life was in flames.

Then there were the girls, and they weren’t any friendlier than the boys. They were all jealous. They couldn’t understand why I was so pretty, and I guess they felt bad with themselves, so they took it out on me. They called me names and harassed me daily. I was “Jenny made of Jelly” and “Jenny Spaghetti” and soon enough I had to turned around whenever someone yelled “Barbie!” because they decided that was better than learning my name. I felt awful.
Even my grades were a problem. Because no matter how hard I tried studying, if I got a good grade people said it was just because of my good looks. I had zero friends, nobody that believed in me, nobody that knew me at all. I started to believe a few of the things the other kids said, that I was dumb, and worthless, and that I would die alone. Some days I wanted to die.
The worst part is that nobody seemed to care. My parents still presented me as their “perfect daughter” not knowing how unhappy I really was.

One day I just… exploded. I couldn’t take it anymore. I ran home from school, made a few stops to buy a couple of things and then I locked myself in my room. I cried a lot, yes. But I also made some important changes. I cut my hair. I was very angry and I cut it very, very short and maybe a little uneven, then I died the tips of it purple. I threw away almost all my makeup and beauty products. I cut holes in my jeans and ripped the sleeves of a few shirts. I went as far as to pierce my own nose. I was painful, and scary, and when I looked in the mirror I didn’t recognize myself… I loved it! That was the person I always wanted to be; someone free.

In the end, my parents were furious. They didn’t talk to me for days, and when they did it was only to tell me that once I finished college I had to leave their house.On the other hand, the next few days at school were very interesting. Of course a lot of people laughed, and many didn’t recognize me at all, but then I started receiving a few smiles, and some people started to talk to me. They were impressed I had the valor to make this change, and so they started seeing me for who I really was.

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