Called Ugly for 20 Years

I'm the ugly kid in a family of beauties.

My whole family treats me like a joke.

Mom calls me ugly child, and my sister makes me livestream as a clown.

Even relatives tease me:

You can't be their biological kid, right? How can you look nothing like them?

For over twenty years, I've had enough of being the family clown.

I finally saved enough money for braces before New Year's.

I happily went to book the surgery, only to be told:

"Your mother came and made a scene. We had no choice."

"We had to refund the twenty thousand dollars in your account back to her."

I called home in disbelief.

Mom said dismissively:

"With that face of yours, even plastic surgery can't save you."

"Better to spend the money where it matters. Your sister needs a nice bag for work, or it won't match her pretty face."

The dark phone screen reflected my face.

I finally understoodbeing ugly means I don't deserve to be their daughter...

"Miss Gwen, your mother made such a terrible scene, we really couldn't handle it."

The receptionist looked at me with undisguised wariness, as if afraid I'd make trouble for her.

I was still reeling from what my mom had just said.

When I turned around, tears started falling.

"Don't come crying to us. Your mother ruined several of our appointments."

"She was shouting at our clients that they were 'ugly people making a fuss over nothing,' so who are we supposed to cry to?"

She stepped back two paces and rolled her eyes in contempt.

I wanted to argue back.

But my parents' words from childhood wrapped around me:

"You look ugliest when you're crying and screaming."

My natural insecurity left me speechless. I could only slink away in shame.

On the way home, my sister posted on Snapchat.

Heart-shaped face, big eyes, skin as fair and translucent as fresh lychee.

Her beauty was so striking that even the exquisite Chanel bag could only serve as an accessory.

In the photo, she squeezed between Mom and Dad, smiling happily.

She playfully asked in the caption:

"Guess who's the mom and who's the daughter?"

[So the gorgeous girl takes after her parentsthe whole family is beautiful.]

Among the flood of compliments, my sister precisely selected this reply:

[You wouldn't say that if you met my sister.

[We have a genetically mutated little clown in our family~]

She thoughtfully attached a photo of us together.

In the picture, my sister had her arm around my neck while I looked awkward and uncomfortable.

Dull skin, flat nose, puffy eyes, and a slight underbite.

Standing next to my sister, I looked like cow dung next to a flower.

In our family's genetic heritage of high nose bridges and big eyes.

I was truly an anomaly.

Every time we went out, my sister would get praised over and over by strangers:

"This child perfectly inherited all your good features. She's so beautiful, like a doll."

Meanwhile, I would only hear a slightly surprised question:

"Is this your younger one?"

Mom and Dad's smiles always fell at that moment.

They'd glance back at my face and laugh dryly:

"Yeah, we don't know who she takes after."

"If I hadn't watched her being born, I'd think she was switched at the hospital."

"We all call her 'ugly child.'"

When I was little, I didn't yet understand the concept of beauty and ugliness.

But I already vaguely felt that I was the only one excluded from this family.

"Ugly child, eat less meat. You're already uglygetting fat will make you even uglier."

"You want to learn ballet with your sister? You jump around like a toad. It's hilarious."

"Ugly child, you look tacky and awful in pink dresses. Wear them at home if you want, but don't embarrass me outside."

Mom and Dad were always like this, casually pointing out my flaws.

With teasing, mocking laughter.

During puberty, I once secretly bought makeup and got caught.

My sister rushed over and took photos of me, laughing hysterically:

"You're wearing makeup with that ugly face? You look like a ghost. Even uglier."

Mom smashed my makeup:

"You're young and already up to no good. No allowance for you next month."

"Your ugly face is beyond saving no matter what you do to it."

Criticism, insults, mockery...

After twenty years, I'd had enough. I worked desperately to earn money.

I thought I could finally restart my life, but I never expected...

The taxi stopped at our front door.

My tears still hadn't stopped.

Anger and grievance surged together.

I quickened my pace, wanting to rush in and demand an explanation.

But laughter came from the half-open front door:

"Isn't it hilarious? Ugly child actually saved up money secretly to get plastic surgery."

In the living room, relatives were visiting.

Mom was cracking sunflower seeds, laughing so hard she was doubled over:

"That idiot. Can that face of hers be saved? Even top plastic surgeons couldn't do anything with it."

"Good thing I discovered her little scheme, or that money would've been completely wasted!"

The relatives chimed in:

"Ugly child usually seems so honest and simple, but her mind is quite active."

"She even thought about plastic surgery. That kind of face surgery is dangerous."

"Right now she's just uglyif the whole face gets ruined from surgery, that'll be the end!"

Another aunt waved her hand:

"Why is ugly child always thinking about this? Actually, she's not that bad looking. She's quite..."

The aunt paused, struggling for a long time to squeeze out a few words:

"Quite cute, quite honest. She has the look of someone who'd make a good wife!"

The living room fell silent.

The aunt coughed awkwardly a couple of times.

The relatives and my parents exchanged glances, then couldn't help bursting into laughter.

"Haha, this ugly child has been funny since she was little."

Mom laughed so hard she ran out of breath, slapping her thigh.

Standing at the door, I gasped.

I felt all the blood in my body flowing backward, rushing to my head.

Visiting relatives had always followed this pattern since childhood.

My sister would be surrounded and praised first, then the topic would turn to me.

Relatives would tease me:

"How come you don't look like anyone else? You must have been switched at birth."

My mom would lower her voice and shush them:

"Don't tease her. She knows perfectly well in her heart."

"She knows her sister is pretty and she's ugly. She secretly cares about her looks too."

"Now when her sister puts her hair in two braids, she has to do it too, without even looking at what she looks like."

My pain, my humiliation, would be dragged out every New Year.

Turned into after-dinner entertainment by my mom.

I couldn't hold back anymore and rushed into the living room, shouting:

"How I am is none of your business! That's my moneygive it back!"

Everyone in the living room turned their eyes on me.

Burning hot.

Like they were stripping me naked.

The insecurity deep in my heart wrapped around my throat like vines.

"Oh my, look at our ugly child all grown up. We shouldn't say too muchshe'll get embarrassed."

Mom covered her mouth and laughed.

Her appraising gaze made me suffocate.

The relatives gathered around, teasing me:

"How does ugly child want to change herself? We older folks don't understand. Why don't you tell us about it?"

"You can't just say nothing. What if you get scammed and no one's there to back you up?"

My sister came downstairs humming, and hearing the commotion, she laughed too:

"Ugly child thinks her teeth don't look good and wants orthodontic treatment."

"Braces? Ugly child's teeth are pretty good though, quite straight. Your sister's were serious when she was little. Thank goodness your parents discovered it in time and got it corrected, or it really would have been a problem."

The topic shifted to my sister again.

The relatives surrounded my beautiful sister with lavish praise.

The tears I'd been holding back for so long still rolled down.

My voice was hoarse as I asked my mom:

"The doctor said my underbite could actually have been treated when I was little. It would have only cost a little bit of money to fix."

But Mom, Dad, why did you never care about me?

When my sister was losing her baby teeth, Mom and Dad would panic if even one tooth was slightly crooked.

They went to the hospital countless times and spent tens of thousands on orthodontic devices.

But they couldn't spare me a single glance.

By the time they noticed, I'd already grown into someone with a crooked face and misaligned jaw.

Mom and Dad didn't feel bad or worried. They only mocked and disdained me:

"Why are you getting uglier and uglier?"

"Ugly child, ugly childthat nickname really fits."

The accumulated heartache and grievance overflowed.

I wildly wiped at my tears with my hands, but they only came faster.

This sight made the relatives panic a bit. They laughed awkwardly:

"Oh, our ugly child isn't ugly at all. She's beautiful."

"Don't cry now. Everyone stop talking, okay?"

They coaxed me like a child.

Exchanging knowing glances with mockery in their eyes, clearly watching a show.

Mom got impatient.

She clicked her tongue:

"Why are you crying? What do you have to feel wronged about?"

"Making a scene during New Year'swho are you trying to show? Isn't this embarrassing?"

"Why... why do you always call me ugly... why do you call me ugly child..."

I sobbed, unable to think straight.

I just wanted to vent all these years of pain.

My mom was stunned for a moment, then laughed.

"Aren't you ugly? You're this old and still don't know yourself? Want me to get your sister to bring a mirror so you two can stand together and compare?"

She couldn't hold back her laughter and kept stabbing at my heart.

"But really, you won't hold a grudge against us for just telling the truth, will you?"

"We're helping you have self-awareness. Your taste is terrible toolook at what you're wearing today. It makes you look fat and ugly."

"Ugly people shouldn't make a fuss. Won't people laugh at you when you go out?"

My breath caught.

My chest hurt like it was blocked.

I could only squeeze a few words from my throat:

"Yes. I hate you."

I hate your casual criticism and put-downs.

Since childhood, Mom and Dad treated my sister like a princess.

If my sister just walked two steps, Mom and Dad would have praise:

"Our Maya holds her back so straight. She's as beautiful as a swan."

But mejust sitting there, I had to endure Mom and Dad's sharp, judgmental gazes:

"Look at that. Sitting all crooked. Combined with her wretched appearance, she's even uglier."

Since childhood, the word "ugly" had deeply shrouded me.

During puberty, my sister blossomed into a graceful beauty, the acknowledged campus goddess.

By comparison, my face broke out in acne and was constantly oily.

When Mom and Dad saw my face, their disgust was written all over:

"Oh my god, how did ugly child's face turn out like this? So gross. What are we going to do if she keeps getting uglier?"

"Ugly child, get some bangs to cover that big forehead of yours."

"Just wear your school uniform from now on. The uniform looks better on you."

After hearing Mom and Dad's words for so long.

I became hunched over, always looking down wherever I went, always wearing a mask.

I just wanted to hide my face.

My puberty years, spent in enormous appearance anxiety, became my most painful period.

Those supposedly beautiful school memoriesI had none of them.

I was like a mouse, avoiding people's gazes.

I felt like everyone was talking about my appearance.

Like Mom and Dad, laughing that I was ugly child.

Later, when I went to college and got away from my parents, my personality became slightly more outgoing.

New friends I made pushed aside my thick bangs and removed my mask.

"Where are you ugly? You look fine. You just look a bit tired. Put on some makeup and you'll be good."

Encouraged, I gathered my courage.

I abandoned the bangs my parents made me keep and started learning makeup.

But when I dressed up carefully, I always felt people were watching me.

The giggling, well-dressed girls in the cafeteria made me wonder if they were laughing at my ugly face, at my over-the-top makeup.

That meal felt like torture.

That's when I suddenly realized.

My insecurity had already seeped into my bones.

I instinctively opened my phone, wanting to delete the edited photo I'd just posted on Snapchat.

But I discovered I'd forgotten to block my parents.

I couldn't see my friends' compliments. I only saw my sister laughing:

[Ugly child, that kind of makeup doesn't suit you at all. How dare you show off like this? Aren't you afraid people will laugh at you?]

Mom was scolding: [You're living quite the fancy life. Using too much makeup is making your skin worse and your ugly face even uglier.]

Later, I threw away my pretty clothes.

I obediently put my bangs back down.

When I went home, I still couldn't escape Mom's mockery:

"Oh, why aren't you wearing those slutty dresses today? Finally realized it's embarrassing?"

My sister laughed too, seeming to give me sincere advice:

"Ugly child, you have too much fat. You need to lose weight before wearing those dresses."

"But honestly, clothes are picky about faces. Some faces just can't pull them off. Better just give up."

Ugly child, ugly child.

Light, casual laughter. Light, casual criticism.

Pressing down on little me, it became a mountain.

Never letting me straighten my back again.

Mom and Dad laughed at me:

"Being ugly is one thing, but your personality is so strange too."

"Petty and small-minded. You'll never amount to anything."

But Mom, Dad, did you ever think about why I became this way?

When I smiled with my teeth showing, you said it looked ugly.

When I wanted to learn ballet, you said I was clumsy like a toad.

When I hosted at school, you said I looked ridiculous in a formal dress and people laughed at me.

Time and time again I tried to improve.

You dragged me back down into the mud each time.

"I hate you!"

"I hate that you raised me to be like this!"

The words I'd held in my heart for so many years finally came roaring out.

Mom froze.

She and Dad exchanged a quick glance.

Shame and embarrassment flashed across their faces.

"Your wings have grown hard, haven't they? You dare talk to us like this?"

Mom screeched at the top of her lungs.

Her beautiful eyes furrowed as she pointed at my nose and scolded:

"We're just telling you the truthit's for your own good. Who else would be honest with you?"

I bit my teeth, fists clenched.

Tears dropped one by one onto the floor.

"I don't want to hear your so-called truth!"

I wanted to hear your praise too...

Even if not about being prettyhardworking, studious, thoughtful...

Any word would do.

But Mom and Dad never really looked at me.

Mom's voice was still buzzing in my ears:

"Besides, ask yourselfwhat have we ever denied you since you were little? You had food and drink. How did we wrong you?"

I suddenly wanted to laugh.

What had I ever had since childhood?

My sister was beautiful and precious.

Her clothes were bought in sets, filling her closet.

Her fruit was peeled and cut, arranged on fancy plates.

Even after my sister graduated, Mom and Dad drove her to and from work. At home, they even set out her dishes and utensils.

And me?

Since elementary school, I went to and from school by myself, just because my sister said, "She's too ugly. Being with her is embarrassing."

Several times during typhoons, I watched other kids get picked up by their parents.

Only I struggled through wind and rain.

I'd walked the lonely road for over twenty years.

My underbite could have been easily corrected when I was little. My puberty acne scars could have been easily treated.

Not only did Mom and Dad not take these things seriously.

They became their jokes instead.

Many times, watching my sister, I wondered.

Why, when we were growing up under the same sky.

My side was always raining.

Dampness seeping into my flesh and blood, corroding my bones.

Her side was always sunny and peaceful.

"You're just biased! Biased toward my sister!"

I wailed, hoarsely accusing them:

"Why? Just because I'm ugly, you don't like me?

"I want to be pretty too! Give me back my moneymy plastic surgery money! Give it back!"

The relatives started whispering among themselves.

Mom and Dad didn't expect me to make such an endless scene. They were already getting angry.

Mom lowered her voice, warning me:

"Get upstairs right now. Stop embarrassing me here!"

"I won't go! Give me back my money! You're so biased, stealing my money to buy my sister a bag?"

Slap.

Mom couldn't take it anymore. She swung her arm and backhanded me across the face.

The force was so strong it made me stagger back several steps.

My ears started ringing.

"How did I raise something like you! Get out!"

Her shrill scolding echoed in my ears.

I lifted my head in a daze.

Mom was a recognized beauty. Even when she looked like a shrew in anger, she was still pretty.

Dad frowned beside her, looking handsome even with a cold face.

My sister stood with folded arms, laughing lightly, full of haughty disdain.

The three of them stood in a row, like there was an unbridgeable chasm between them and me.

After a long, long time, I heard my hoarse voice:

"Fine. You don't have to return the money. Consider it compensation for raising me."

"I'll leave. An ugly girl like me doesn't deserve to be part of your family."