Ariah took after her mother’s flawless skin. Although not white and creamy, her Asian evened skin tone could vie for skin soap commercials. Proportionately petite, she was not a knock out when you first see her, but it was the kind of beauty that grows on you, and when you to look into her brown doe eyes, you are drowned forever.
She was intelligent also, the rare combination of gifts that not all of us were lucky to have been blessed, beauty and brains, she fell in line bringing pails and buckets when God rained those graces on humankind.
Maybe because of those gifts that she had been albeit too proud. Not entirely a braggart but her’s was an implied ego. The saddest thing is, she has a painted image of herself in her head that she needs to project.
She would rather die than be caught with a fashion booboo, be told that she was wrong, be involved with the wrong person, be always politically correct, be pulled down from the “coolness” factor, a pedestal in her head where she placed herself for lesser beings to look up just so they can see her.
Popular, beautiful and good grades but with an ego like an iceberg that hides behind false modesty. She was a good person in so many other ways, unfortunately, there is one thing about not seeing yourself in the stark lightness of day, there will always be a need to validate yourself on who you are with those that surround you.
When she finally walked out into the world, her job hunt was a doozey. Everyone seemed to be anxious to have her on board, and on her second job, a year out of college, she was already part of a middle management position.
Everything was as it should be for someone as gifted as she is, until one day she woke up with a dreaded zit on her left cheek.
” Dont panic, its a good thing you were blessed with good skin. Once youv’e pinched out that ooze, the acne scar will be gone and your skin almost always cope. It will return back to its old self sooner than expected…” she thought to herself as she worked out the nasty ooze eye staring back at her.
She put on a more layered concealer to the hide the imperfection, and continued on with her routine. Although the zit was more like an attention whore, waving at everyone she talked to, no one dared comment on the inflamed phenomenon.
She woke up the next morning, saw that there was another one on the right. Although her original problem has yet to heal, there’s this other guy now growing up on her. Now, she’s starting to feel the stress.
Over a couple of days, it seemed that the zits were on a migration pattern all around her face. Where one was already healing, new ones were being reborn. “This cant be happening to me?! why is this happening to me?!” she asked herself as she looked in the mirror. She was now really, really stressed.
True to herself and the pedestal that she stood on, she carried through the day like everything was as it should be, and if anyone ever dared to ask what happened, the person would die on the spot from the icy glare and invisible laser beams spewing out from her stare.
But not all was as it should be. If she thought herself as a goddess, there were also goddesses among her ranks and they do have the right to know what happened. Either that, or they were just clueless mortals curious on the cause of her tragedy. They would ask, and she would just bow down and mumble something about being up so late at night reading Ayn Rand, – so that’s why she was proud, she’s into an egotists manifesto, thought one of the gods.
Her siblings was never into her drift. She can carry on with her superiority complex in her imagined world for all they care but she still needs to do housework. She still falls victim to trolling and sibling tortures and the zit was a perfect storm.
” What happened to your face?” her brother had the most comical incredulous look while at the dinner table. It’s the first time he saw the full view of his sisters dilemma.
She gave the icy stare but it never works on her brother.
“Mom, look at her, she’s worse off than babe”, referring to the youngest, not out of teens yet and subjected to limitless acne, she’s learned how to cope and not really be bothered by any of it.
“Stop it!” her Mom jumped to her defense, knowing how sensitive she has become on the issue, “ She doesn’t even know also, maybe she’s just going into hormonal changes, must be the work, stress and all.”
Ariah lifted her her head and looked at her youngest sibling. “I won’t tease you anymore, or call you names just because of how you look… now I know..” and she bowed her head again.
For the wisdom of mothers, either it was clueless or intended, she rejoined, “and that is called lessons from humility.”
After which, she looked up again, this time at mom, and the tears fell down like rain. The stress from looking so out of sync from before, of feeling so insecure, of being afraid that everyone would find her ugly, the fear of becoming human, came tumbling out. She cried.
It’s funny how our mouths are contorted when we feel extreme emotions. We twist it when we laugh so hard, we do the same when we cry. This time, it was that comical state of her face as the zits were washed over that she embraced her mom and cried some more.
Mom glared at her brother, while he was smirking all over and babe was smiling her triumphant smile. She was assured of a more compassionate sister.
When she finally let go of mom, she felt relieved. Her brother joked around that he never had problems with acne because he was so hairy he even looked like a monkey.
She laughed and retorted with ” and your hairs are so curly they’re like pubic extensions growing on your face!” this time they all laughed, and the happy dinner resumed.
The fear of coming down from the pedestal and becoming more human is now hopefully overcome 🙂