I feel like the one good thing about being a woman is that even if you’re awful at every aspect of life, your looks will give some sort of advantage. But I am ugly and too poor to fix it. It’s a stupid thing to be upset about, I know, but being a person who already struggles with the concept of love and relationships, it makes me feel so helpless that my value when it comes to attraction will probably only come from a person who’s attracted to flaw. It’s patronizing. It’s disgusting. I’m disgusting.
My breasts are misshapen and uneven, my stomach protrudes no matter what I do, and my rib cage is wide. My face is disproportionate, asymmetrical, and all of my friends mock me since it’s fat and round like a damn saggy old lady’s. I grapple with myself and others everyday due to my flucating psychosis and total social moronicness. Couldn’t I at least be attractive? It’s so shallow to care, but people are shallow, and I don’t want this meat shell composed of unlucky genes to be all I am to those who don’t bother to dissect me. Even then—I’m not too pretty on the inside either!