There’s a perception that people use makeup to hide, but for me, it marked a return to my face.
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Texas, United States
I don’t remember a great deal about my childhood, but there are a few experiences that stick out like a splinter: the time an electric current ran through a family friend; the day I cried and cried because my mum wouldn’t let me wear a mismatched outfit to nursery school; and the first time I was called ugly.
I was in primary six and it was the end of the school day. The boy I sat next to—we’ll call him ‘David’—was fiddling with something on his desk when out of the blue he said, ‘No offense Tritima, but you’re ugly.’ He spat the word out defiantly and unequivocally. Then, he gestured with his fingers to show how I had too many pimples colonizing my face. ‘Pimple,’ he pointed at one spot, ‘Pimple,’ he pointed at another...
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