Pretty Picture

I was excited when I went to go get my first national ID issued.

It was an important event.

I earnestly hoped my picture would turn out well.

I wore a dark veil as recommended,

So that the picture would turn out well. Hmph!

There was a separate queue for women and men.

The first 3 or 4 men in the queue were inside the room where our pictures were taken.

My name was called out.

I went in and sat on the chair.

The photographer got a phone call, which she took.

Two, oh so cool, young men were standing at the beginning of the queue—

Obviously the most gorgeous men on earth.

I overheard one say to the other,

“Her picture will be so dark, you won’t even be able to see her.”

I tried to say something,

But my tongue was tied.

I tried to ignore the slight,

Pretend I didn’t hear it,

Just focus on the camera.

But I wasn’t able to, unfortunately.

The result was as horrible as could be.

The picture was even worse than I expected,

To the extent that,

Whenever I needed my ID for anything,

Or needed to photocopy it,

I’d cover my face with my finger.

I was a mess.

I couldn’t look at my reflection in the mirror for weeks.

I hated how Iooked, my skin tone, and literally everything.

Time passed by,

And I managed to get over that incident.

I made peace with myself and learned to love myself.

I no longer allow anyone to bully me no matter what.

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