Swan?

I met a woman recently at the store where I work a couple of days a week.  Faded would be the word to describe her.

Her waist-length. sort-of-blond, curly hair was pulled into a tight ponytail, and the mass was topped with a faded Yankees' baseball cap.  Her almost-blue eyes were washed away by rimless glasses that perched at the end of her small, well-shaped nose.  She was a bit taller than I am, but it was hard to tell because she walked with a three-pronged cane.

She wasn't wearing any foundation garments, or they were ill-fitting.  Her top was a t-shirt, sizes too big, that had once been navy or perhaps purple.  Th sweatpants she wore  were old, almost-black and faded, too.  White (again, sort-of)tennis shoes graced (I use the term loosely) her feet.  She could have lost a few pounds (can't most of us?), but she wasn't really a large woman.

I wanted to cry.

When she said she needed new clothes to go to a dinner with her dad, I felt hope.  No such luck.  She had been ill, she said, and had to wear the sneakers. Flat shoes? I suggested, maybe a comfortable ballet slipper?  Nope. She would wear the sweatpants, but with a new shirt.  She wore no makeup, and wouldn't bother.

She said there was no point, that she was ugly and fat, her husband said so. I wanted to hire a hitman.

She eventually settled on a shapeless top to wear with newish black sweats, and a necklace and earrings. She looked cleaner, but no better.  How very sad that her self-esteem was that low.

How different was the 20-something who came in next!  A very large girl with a bright smile,  she was going to a party with her boyfriend.  Her colors were as brilliant as her smile; the dress she chose was feminine, the lacy cammie added just enough sex appeal.  She was a pleasure to be around.  She knew she was pretty, her boyfriend thought so, too.  She had wings.

People DO look at the way we dress. It affects our self-image.  If we see ourselves as dowdy, we are.  The old faded things show us as old and faded. Use them for car rags.

She pulled out her drivers' license at the desk.  Her photo was the typical one, generally unflattering.  Then she told us she carries her first license with her, and showed us a beautiful young girl....I nearly fell off my heels,  She was at least fifteen years younger than me.  My first drivers' license didn't even have a photo on it, and it was paper, not a hologrammed plastic card.  So young to be so sad.

I thought back to myself a few months ago, when depression and poor self-image had taken its toll on me.  This woman could be me, except that I had enough strength and support to change. She does not.

I longed to hug her, to tell her she wasn't the ugly woman her husband had seen, that she was still the attractive woman in the picture. I tried to tell her that she was still "her" on the inside, and could be on the outside, but to no avail.  The pounds don't matter as much as your brain does! I wanted to shout.

As I write, I feel my tears running down my face.  She is unhappy.  I pray for her.  No one should be treated this way. No one should be so unhappy that they can't get out of the black where they find themselves.

She will be back again, when another function comes up, likely with her dad. We will try again to bring out the pretty woman she can afford to be.

Please, God, heal her mind as well as her body.

This ugly duckling could become a swan.