Who am I?

I don’t have anorexia. I’m not fat. I’m thin.. and I probably hate myself for it. ’Skinny’ - one my best friend says. It sounds like a compliment, but i know how its just another word for scrawly, veiny, boney… ugly.  

I’m not white. I’m yellow. Many times, I have hated myself for it. Its an awful feeling. How can i hate my own race, my own skintone? But sometimes I just despise myself.

I ask myself why can’t i look like her, or her, or her. No, i don’t compare myself with models or girls on tv, or in magazines. I compare myself to reallife people. People who i go to school with, people i see everyday, people who are beautiful.

Everyone agrees these people are beautiful. I agree too. Shame, i can’t participate. See, normally people in my situation would compare themselves to an ugly duckling, but i won’t. Because anyone who has read the story will know that the ugly duckling always turns into a swan. Shame, this just isn’t one of those stories.

The reason i hate my own skintone sometimes is because i think that is what makes me ugly in their eyes. Because what i can offer does not adhere to their beauty preferences. Interestingly, I think this one of the reasons I like going back. Over there in that faraway land, i’m not different, i’m not yellow, i’m not ugly. My skintone blends in, and then people admire my seemingly big eyes, my skinny figure and my browning hair. Over there, i’m normal. Over there, i’m not ugly.