She Had Every Right To Be: An Excerpt

“May I go to the bathroom?” I asked Ms. Tassinaro in the midst of Lab Biology, she nodded her head yes, and to the bathroom I went. Upon my entrance, I stopped in front of the mirror to inspect my appearance when a long lost friend of mine emerged through the doorway. I was always so mean to this friend. She didn’t deserve it. I can only “justify” treating her so poorly in saying that she was the epitome of what my peers made me out to be, yet no one ever bothered to look twice at her. So why were they always looking at me?

“Hey! How are you?”

We went on to catch each other up on the predicaments in which we were currently involved since it had been too long since we last spoke. She went on to tell me that she was considering highlighting her hair, and I told her it would look “fab” for her to do so.

“I need your honest opinion,” she insisted. I examined her face in order to determine my honest opinion. Her forehead caved into a slight widow’s peak. Her face seemed to form the shape of a diamond. She had your typical, run of the mill brown eyes practically hidden beneath bushman eyebrows that were in desperate need of taming. Her nose rounded where it would typically point, and was larger in size than average. Her lips were chapped, and would expose neon green braces whenever she would taunt them into a smile. Now her hair, my God, was thicker than you could ever imagine — like nothing I had ever seen before. The texture was coarse and screw curled. She always wore it swept back into a side ponytail. She was no beauty queen, that was for sure, but she was a wonderful person. As for the highlights, I figured they’d brighten her face, and so that was what I told her. Although, I would hate to be the hairdresser to have to work with such a large mass of hair.

“Really, you don’t think it’d be too much?”

“Please, your beautiful no matter what!” I assured her.

“I know,” she stated in the utmost confidence.

Huh.

Here my friend stood entirely sure of herself despite the actuality of her appearance. And hell, she had every right to be. I couldn’t wrap my head around it, the concept that she thought herself to be beautiful, and there I was, as aesthetically pleasing to the eye as I am in contrast to her, there was nothing I liked about the reflection before me. If this friend could be so sure of her beauty, why couldn’t I?