Beauty

I knew this beautiful girl who felt bad about all parts of her body.

She said; my ears look like Jewish boy ears, that's why I can't wear my hair up.

She also said: I can only wear A-line skirts because my hips are too wide. And I must always wear high heels since my legs are too short. And not wearing pantyhose isn't an option, there are too many visible veins running up and down my legs.

Her neck was so hideous she had to wear turtlenecks always, even to the beach. She bleached her hair every other week, so that no roots would ever show. She also shaved off her eyebrows to 'feel blond in the way Marilyn did.'
Her hands were, according to her, unbelievably hideous, but there wasn't much she could do about that.

Her diet consisted mostly of carrots and cottage cheese. And cigarettes. Because they don't have any calories.

Then, this beautiful girl became a crack whore. I went to see her in her crack den the other day. Her hair was a halo of steel wool, her body unshapely with fat rolls and sagging, greenish skin. Her teeth had started to rot and her fingers were horribly nicotine-stained. When she greeted me at the door she said:
I am not beautiful anymore.
Well, I recognized you, I said.
Then she said: When I was beautiful I never felt beautiful, but now when I am ugly, I feel beautiful.