She’s too beautiful
A story on the contrary in quite another universe, where in an overturned world the imperfect reigns, to the detriment of the exceptions...
"Catherine, stop crying, come on..."
"No, Mom, I can’t..."
"Yes, you can, clean your nose and wash your face..."
The girl, a step away from eighteen, is sitting on the floor in the bathroom. She raises her head and shows red eyes and mascara’s tears on her face. So, she pulls up and obeys her mother.
After drying her face, she starts to stare at the image reflected in the mirror.
"It's better, right?"
"No, Mom, it's no better at all... I have been hours here trying lots of makeups for tomorrow's party, after spending months studying those damned Youtube video tutorials. I need some special effects... or maybe something magical..."
"You're too hard on yourself, Catherine, you have to appreciate yourself more, you have to accept yourself for what you are."
"You make it easy..."
"What do you mean?"
"You're ugly, you've always been, Mom."
"It's not true..."
"Yes, it is, Dad always says it. Your mother is the ugliest woman in the world..."
"Your father always exaggerates..."
"But that's it, mom, my friends think so too."
"Oh yes? And what do they say? "
"What a wonderful long nose she has, how can she see us with those crooked eyes, what a fantastic toothless ant-bear lips and so on."
"The ant-bear has no teeth, dear."
"Okay, but you see what I mean. I will never be as ugly as you..."
"Because I'm beautiful, Mom!"
"It's not true…"
"I'm too beautiful, I'm perfect, damn, look!"
"Look at me in the mirror, mom. I have a straight and measured nose, the line of my eyes is so precise to seem drawn. And the mouth... do we want to talk about it?"
"Let's talk about."
"Are you kidding me, mom?"
"The mouth! It’s so beautiful that it seems fake. I look fake, mom! Like a doll, like a picture that came out too good, that is bad, better, that is worse, like the nastiest canvas in the world. But by a blind painter, mom, because only a sightless person could paint something beautiful..."
"No… please, Catherine, don’t start crying again..."
The girl stops just in time the new hemorrhage of adolescent suffering and after another mighty blow, returns hers look on the mirror.
"Do you know what I've come to think?"
"I thought to meet those doctors who break your nose and move your eyes at random. A friend of mine told me that they have opened a place outside the city, the clinic Picasso, I think it's called like that... "
"Are you crazy, Catherine?"
"Yes, sorry, Mom, it's foolish, I know..."
"Do you know what the real madness is?"
"To think that ugliness is the most important thing in life."
"And what's worth more, mom?"
"Yes, time is the only wealth that matters. Because it marks the body of each one of us and sooner or later it comes the moment to admire in the mirror the imperfections which life has written our story about ourselves with. "
"Do you mean we all get ugly?"
"Well, we don’t get any nicer, at the end."
"Well, I can’t wait to be old, then."
"Don’t rush, Caty."
"But what do I do in the meantime?"
"In the meantime, honey, can you be just happy?"