Ugly Is Beautiful

The hideous wrinkles and folds unmistakingly reveal the damage that the harsh years had wrought, all the battles waged and fought, won and lost. I look at her now sunken face, beaten and badly weathered, and there is no mistaking a perfect beauty she was not that many years ago. She smiles, a hint of a dimple peeking through the loose skin, faint signs of high cheekbones desperately wanting to be seen, strong jaws chiseled on a face that must have been stunning when she was younger. Alas, all her enviable perfections the passage of the years wasted, disfigured, marred beyond repair by the envious hands of time. While this ugly observer focuses on her now terribly faded image, with a smile I sigh without envy, listening to a voice whispering: the more beauty one possesses, the greater is the loss in the end. Time, the great equalizer! Ugly from birth and ugly till death, I can take it all with a hearty laugh as there is not much I will give up, for the years cannot take away what from the start I never had. Ah, ugly is much more preferable and perfectly beautiful after all.