Jasmine Rose

I don’t care if you call me ugly. Say it, I dare you. Mention the girth of my lips or the wide-set nature of my eyes. Maybe you’ll pick up on the flat scope of my nose or the jutting of my cheekbones. The ferociousness of my brows or my cocoa stained skin may tip you off to any perceived ugliness as well. But, I don’t care.

I know I’m beautiful, just don’t tell me so. If all that leaves is calling me ugly, then so be it. My beauty doesn’t lie with my looks, but in my refusal to give up in life’s journey. So, tell me that I’m ugly if you choose, then. I don’t care. There are worse things to be called than ugly. And it’s not being called a slut.