Ugh.  You’re so ugly!  And fat too!  What’s the matter with you, anyway?  Another day, another morning of waking up on the wrong side of the bed.  I look into the mirror, like I’ve done for the last 20 years, as I stumble into the bathroom.  Yes, I look the same and feel the same.  I still have the same inadequacies and strong points.  One last look before I hop into the steamy shower.  Yep, still ugly.

It’s another day of beating the traffic and getting to school at 7 a.m. just to get a close parking space.  Another ordinary day of complaints, of aches and pains and regrets over not studying hard enough or long enough for that tough exam.  It’s just a normal day.  After school I rush off to work.

On my break from work I wander through the busy center, my mind cluttered with that mess I left back in the store.  The center is crowded and I sit down to “people watch.”  It’s like an airport or a zoo today because I can see every type of person imaginable wandering in and out of the stores.

I’m tired and my eyes are weary of the colors and faces and scurrying bodies all around.  I’m hurrying back to the store when I spot her.  She stands out among the crowd.  Her face, so badly burned, reminds me of the marshmallows we used to overcook at the beach when I was a kid.  I looked, but I didn’t stare.  I just couldn’t do that to her.  Her scarred face wouldn’t leave me all night.  My thoughts of respect for that woman who would go into the public as afflicted as she was were strong.

That woman who I saw for perhaps 30 seconds has been on my mind for days now.  The endless stares and sympathy she receives seem unbearable to me.  I try to imagine looking like her.  I try to feel what she feels.  Then I get mad at myself for calling myself ugly and for complaining about my “problems.”

Do I ever stop to appreciate all the good things I do have?  What right, as a healthy and happy person, do I have to complain?  None.  None at all in comparison with all the people who are disabled and who are struggling to make the most of their lives.

I wish now I could have spoken with that woman.  Her face, her demeanor left a strong impression on me.  My outlook is more positive and appreciative, and less vain.  I’d like to thank her for showing me, in an offhand way, to be more appreciative of myself and the world.

This article was first published in the Daily Aztec, the San Diego State University student newspaper in November 1981.