You're Beautiful

"You're beautiful," he said. A smile, soft and gentle remained on his face, an echo of the meaning behind his statement.

Were it not for their friendship, she might have spit in his face. Though she had vetoed the idea, bile rose in her throat to remind her of the flavor of his lie. A battle for a response took place in her mind while her face struggle to choose between disgust and the studied acceptance she'd trained herself to use for such cases. Friendship prompted her to lean towards honesty, though she could not bring herself to completely crush his fallacy, conjured in the image of kindness.

Some called it insecurity, she called it realism. Beauty had a definition, and she did not fit it. Even if she happened to catch someone's fancy on occasion, she had long since moved beyond needing to remind herself that someone more perfect would come for him soon. She was content to live as she was. Not quite huge, but  a larger, disfigured version of "normal." It wasn't just a personal decision that brought her to this conclusion. Her family, friends and even science had worked together to verify her self assessment.

Which is why her stomach rolled and prepared to vomit every time someone was audacious or pitying enough to speak the lie of beauty to her face. She did not intend to be a burden on anyone's conscience, though that is how she felt when she looked into their concerned eyes while they tried to console her. Consolation. Funny, and fitting. They offered consolation to one who could only be a consolation prize, at best. Or worse, when they thought they were being honest.

She didn't fault them for their confusion, they just didn't know better yet. Of course, any attempt to explain this to them was an insult. Experience had taught her not to get her hopes up every time some young buck came around professing undying love and sighing over imagined beauty. It was annoying, and hurt more every time, until she stopped taking them seriously. So she'd smile, say thank you and discard the compliment at her earliest convenience.

Until then, she'd put up the invisible guard, smile and respond with a "thank you."