I Want To Write Comedy
During my first or second week of primary school, at the ripe age of 6, I found out I was ugly.
In all fairness, I always had a suspicion. A gut feeling I developed quite young and that probably came from what a therapist would diagnose as some childhood trauma I can’t invoque from memory, but on that fatidic day, my newly-made friend was avoiding me, and when I asked what was up, our other friend said well you have a voice like a man so she doesn’t want to hang out with you.
I have no idea why, upon being told I had a voice like a man, I jumped to the conclusion that she thought I was ugly, but that’s how my mind interpreted it: sounds like a man, is ugly.
As almost any girl will tell you, being an ugly girl is the same as basically having no future whatsoever, especially if you (like me) were born in the late eighties or anytime before 2010, where there was no talk of self-love, only self-hatred.
George R.R. Martin wrote in Game Of Thrones: "Is there any creature on earth as unfortunate as an ugly woman?". Ouch.
He’s not completely wrong, though, and that’s why, from the four and an half volumes of the series I have read, I remember only that one quote that spoke to me.
If you don’t know me in real life, I know what you’re thinking (I’m secretly hoping that’s what you’re thinking, anyway): Carina, you’re not ugly!, and listen, I appreciate it, truly do, but the scars of a lifetime being called ugly aren’t going to be healed with a few comforting words. I’ll send you my IBAN, which won’t help with the self-confidence either, but will help in general.
At 11 years old I was informed by my own brother, straight to my face matter-of-fact and with no forewarning, that I was ugly. When I argumented that I wasn’t ugly because Mum and Dad thought I was pretty, he shrugged shoulders and blasted me with a all parents think their kids are pretty and, honestly, there was no counter-argument for that. There would be a lifetime of held grudges on my part, sure, but no futher debate. Especially when hearing that only confirmed my suspicions. It wasn’t news, it was more: Oh, so the rumours are true!
Back to when I was 6 years old, the girl who went on to become my best friend for a few years (she eventually demoted and traded me for a prettier group), slapped me in the face.
You might wonder: Carina, what the heck did you do to her, were you going around again, unintentionally sounding like a man? No. It was break time at school and she was trying to get a snack from her backpack, but was struggling to open the zipper while holding the bag at the same time. I held the bag for her, she retrieved the snack, closed the zipper, stared straight into my eyes for a few seconds… and slapped me fully in the face.
I mean, I deserved it. I helped her when she was struggling, but I was ugly as fuck, so a slap in the face was me getting off easily, really.
Now, I have no idea what compelled her to do that, but even as a child I figured there was some deep unconrollable emotion in her that made her feel some kind of disgust towards me, which led her to slap me despite me doing nothing more than helping her out. This was also my very first impression of her. And, you guessed it: the only reason I could fathom for this behaviour was because I was extremely, disgunstingly, ugly.
In hindsight, it’s quite ironic that later on, in a sort of contest no one asked for, someone asked my former best friend’s crush who he thought was the ugliest in the class, me or her. No other classmates were called into the contest because we were the only ones in class deemed ugly.
(I lost, by the way, her crush found me uglier. He didn’t say she was pretty, she got the coronation in a battle of who’s the least ugly, so I guess that’s what you get for slapping the girl who helps you in the face. She’s very pretty now, though, which is proof that karma might exist but doesn’t last forever.)
All of these small micro-aggressions led to a very clear conclusion: friend doesn’t want to hang out anymore cause I sound like a man equals ugly, kid I helped hits me for no reason equals ugly, my brother tells me I’m ugly definitely equals ugly.
Suspicion > Suspicion > Confirmation
Which is a fine formula when you’re a sleuth trying to unravel a mystery - or trying to find reasons as to why your best friend should break up with her boyfriend who doesn’t deserve her - but not so much when you actually never had any plans to be ugly.
They say that being ugly builds character, and in some way I guess they are right. I would have absolutely traded all this “character” for liking what I see in the mirror, but presented with a lack of choice, I guess character will have to do just fine.
So, unable to be pretty (and refusing to even try, because god knows that worse than being pretty is trying to be pretty when you’re not), I just decided to be funny instead.
At 11 years old, during school break, I made a comment about a situation we were experiencing. I don’t even remember what that was anymore, but my comment was received with a roar of laughter by my group of friends.
I never did drugs (except weed twice, but that doesn’t count cause I didn’t even get high the first time, and the second time I just got dumb), but I know exactly what being high feels like because I felt it then and there.
Everyone roaring with laughter, my then best-friend-slapper exclaimed in between laughs this girl is so funny!, and in that moment I felt more powerful than ever - even if still ugly. And I realised that that was what I wanted, that was where my priorities lied: comedy!
Sure, I couldn’t be pretty, but I could be funny.
I’ve been chasing that high ever since. It’s instinctual by now: if there is a chance for a funny bit, I will take it.
So I wonder why that trait of my personality hasn’t yet bled into my writing, why I tend to write more about serious things than quick quips about the hilarity of life.
I guess I’ll start now. Please laugh. No, please, ugly laugh.
Be good, stay chaotic. |
Liefs,
Carina