Ugly

She sat in front of me, her body twisted in her seat. Her clothes looked to be a size too small, they looked uncomfortably tight. Her t-shirt rode up, exposing a roll of fleshy, pale skin, scarred with faded stretch marks.

Her clothes were black, but they were covered in short, coarse hairs, like a dog's. Her own hair was long and tied back into a low ponytail. It had been bleached, but it wasn't blonde. A thick streak of crimson ran through it, but it too was faded. The hair was so dry, it looked like I could reach out with my hands and snap it off at the hair-tie. I couldn't see one strand that didn't have a split end.

Beyond her hair, I could see large, angry pimples covering her neck. They were red, like they had had the life squeezed out of them. They looked painful.

Don't look at her, I thought to myself. She was making me depressed and a bit sad, like that feeling of homesickness you can get when aren't even away, but you just really need to get back home as quickly as possible to feel okay again. But my eyes kept going back to her. I couldn't stop looking at her. I felt a strange mixture of fascinated repulsion. I couldn't find one appealing quality, one redeeming feature.

When the class ended, I quickly left the room. I had to get out of there, get away from the girl and all of her offensiveness. As I walked back to my car, I scolded myself for thinking so harshly of someone I had never met before, never even spoken to. She's probably a really nice girl, I told myself. It's not as if you're a supermodel yourself, I reminded myself. But I just couldn't shake that feeling.

Safe inside my car, I moved the gears into Reverse and looked over my shoulder, accelerating slowly. I could see someone a few meters away, so I waited. I had considered just taking off anyway, making them wait for me, but stopped myself. Don't be rude, I said.

But the person took their time, meandering along, while I waited, my patience quickly coming to an end. Come on, I muttered under my breath. Fucking hurry up. Can't you see I'm waiting for you? You'd have thought they would be polite and pick up the pace a little. There wasn't any way they could have missed the white, fog-like smoke coming out of the car's exhaust pipe. The person knew I was waiting.

The figure got closer and closer. It was the girl. The ugly girl. I wanted to slam my foot to the accelerator. Maybe not run her over, but at least give her a scare, but I didn't. She took her sweet time walking past, looking into my car as she did.

I floored the accelerator just as she was out of the way. Ugly, I thought. Ugly person. Ugly ugly ugly.

And this is exactly why I haven't been posting for a while. I'm seeing ugliness everywhere. I feel ugly, especially when I think thoughts like the above.

It's not all doom and gloom though. I've reconnected with an old friend, one I used to work with before I left for Ireland in 2007. I thought this girl was... well, a bit of a psychopath back then. But she was pregnant then and going through a really rough time. You know that narky little thing people say about pregnant women: It's not an illness? Well, with her, it really was. She was the sickest (we're talking multiple hospitalisations here. It's as if her body had a chemical reaction to the baby) pregnant woman I've ever know.

But we kept in touch and now that she's had the baby, she's great fun. I'm still a bit wary though, her psychoness used to come out of nowhere, so I'm on guard for the same thing to happen again.

I'm working with some fantastic people who seem to think the sun shines out of several orifices of mine. Which is lovely, of course, to have them think that. I have a crush on one of the guys I work with and that's fun. It's harmless though - he's married (so it's a very strong no-go) and I barely ever see him, but Not-So-Psycho (who I'm working with again, although in another job altogether [we live in what seems to be a tiny, tiny village]) and I have a big girly giggle over our crush.

So I saw Lara and Fletch a few weeks ago. I knew they were going to be where I was that night and I made sure I got drunk before I went. All that was in the house was vodka and Midori, so because I think vodka straight tastes like paint stripper, I mixed the Midori in with it. Turns out I had the equivalent of eight rather large shots before I even left the house. By the time I met them, I felt no fear or anxiety. I haven't seen him, remember, since The Great 'He Ignored Me' Debacle of 2009.

He's put on some weight since I last saw him. Lara hasn't though, she was looking as fabulous as usual. I ignored them both for most of the night, talking to Molly instead. It wasn't on purpose.

And now that it's over, that first time of seeing him since I blurted out my big secret, I feel kind of free. In a similar way to when I realised the Hot Trainer had deleted me as a friend on Facebook (!!!) - with him, I felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders, like I didn't have to check his profile a few times during the day, just to see what he had said, or if Marc with the Massive Muscles had written something. It had become a habit to do so and it was a relief that I couldn't. And it's sort of the same with Fletch. Maybe he had become a habit. Whatever it is, it feels okay. This feeling could be fleeting, though. I'm not getting my hopes up too high.

So, there you go. I haven't been blogging because everything is ugly, but it's not all bad. Clear as mud, right? Actually, just writing about the Ugly Girl has made me feel better. Maybe now I've purged it all, I will get past it and blog like a fiend again.

I miss you guys. Thanks for hanging around.