A Thing of Beauty

When I was waiting for my transplant, there was this girl. I'll call her Amy (note: that's not her real name) and she was super pretty. If we attended the same high school, she'd clearly be part of the popular crowd. She had large, expressive eyes, a friendly smile, fashionable (totally suitable for the mid '90s), a Southern accent.....and a heavy cough. She wasn't a smoker; she just had Cystic Fibrosis (CF). A genetic disease that affects (primarily) the lungs and digestive system. At first glance, you'd be struck at how attractive she was....until she was within close proximity and you either heard her breathe (very congested), saw the oxygen on her, or heard her coughing due to the thick mucus that was in her lungs. After that, she might seem less appealing to the average teenage male. Who would want to voluntarily surround themselves with someone who had a chronic, physical (but, at first glance, invisible) illness?

I'm never going to be pretty or gorgeous. Cute? Sure. Adorable? Absolutely! Gorgeous? Fuck no! Why? Due to my incredibly early arrival, I'm always going to have a "preemie" look about myself. Please don't try to humor, assure or (worse) soothe me by saying something like, "but you're so nice and that's more important than being pretty" or "but you're beautiful in the eyes of God" because, in all honesty, that'll only irritate me. 

I'm not trying to say that I see myself as ugly or anything of the nature. I'm trying to point out how, as a society, we put so much emphasis on appearance that someone who might be physically attractive, and want to woo at first glance, can easily get rejected once the mask is removed and their ailments are exposed. Simply, and bluntly, illness makes a person ugly. 

I remember being self-conscious about my appearance when I was growing up; I was always that awkward girl who was a late bloomer that wasn't into make-up until she was in her late teens, didn't start really attempting to style her hair until her 20s and now, in my late 30s, I'm FINALLY trying to create a skincare regiment that works best for me, trying to beat Father Time's ticking clock. I'm not quite sure where I'm going with this, but I wanted to highlight an issue that is happening for those who have chronic, but invisible, illnesses and to let them know that I understand and have been there (heck, some days, I still am).