Ugly Confessions by Jake Pursey

Ugly Confessions by Jake Pursey

I don’t remember the exact moment when I realised I was ugly. It was just a feeling that the image reflected back to me didn’t reflect what I thought of as myself. I tried hard to pinpoint where exactly this ugliness originated from. I spent the whole day trying to figure it out. Was it the nose? The jaw? The symmetry of the face? A laziness in my eyes or mouth? I couldn’t tell. I couldn’t define it and so it bothered me from then on. It wasn’t a lack of confidence in myself. I just knew I was ugly.

It bothered me because I had always thought of myself as an attractive person. But now I felt lousy and less than acceptable aesthetically. How do I stop this ugliness? I thought. How do I stop myself from hurting others with it?

I started asking people, everyone I knew, calling them up. Do you think I’m ugly? I know we haven’t spoken in a while but can I ask you something important? Their answers didnt reassure me. “Of course you’re not ugly. Everyone has their own beauty inside.”

Much disturbed, I retired to the bedroom where I lay and brooded on my hideous appearance. Then later that day I saw an advertisement on the television: it was a woman who had just been in an awful chimpanzee attack. Her skin had been peeled off; her gums were missing; eyes scratched out; hair ripped out and mangled; and her ears and limbs missing. She was not having a good beauty day, as the young girls of today say. Anyway, the girl is a mess, physically and mentally. She can’t cope anymore. She says she wants to die. But of course can’t articulate it because she’s missing her tongue and most of her mouth.

Suddenly a doctor comes in. A very suave looking doctor, handsome and mythical looking.

“Well, what we got here then?” he says.

The girl makes a gargle sound and a subtitle appears below, “I can’t take it anymore, Doctor! My friends and my boyfriend have left me and my family have disowned me. My dreams of being a model are ruined!”

“Well wait just a sec,” the doctor said, “and let’s see if we can remedy that.” The doctor turns and speaks to the television and smiles.

“But doc! You don’t mean it!?” the gargling woman says.

“That’s right, Tracy. See, I’ll be able to take that thing you call your face and turn it into an acceptable presentation to everyone you meet.”

“You mean I can be a model?”

The doctor laughs. “I wouldn’t go that far but people will definitely be a lot nicer to you, if that’s what you mean.”

“Oh doctor, how much is it?”

“Well that depends on how bad you want to be good again.”

“Really bad, Doctor. Really bad.”

“Well then, for the price of beauty and a happy life, I’d say that’s worth £555,555.99 (not including post surgeries for minor adjustments and enhancements).”

“Well Doc, for that price I could reach enlightenment!”

“Oh!” the doctor laughs along with Tracy who makes gurgling swirling sounds in place of laughter.

“She’s a catch isn’t she?” the doctor says to the television. “Shame about the face though.”

“Have you been in an awful accident or has someone you know been? Well, come on down to the HappyDappy clinic and we’ll have the solution for you! If you think you’re ready to be a happy human being again then come on down and we’ll book an appointment. Now remember: don’t lose hope!” and the advert ended.

That’s it, I thought. I need to get plastic surgery. That will solve all of my problems.

Heading to the Happydappy clinic, I pulled out a cigar and puffed away, without a worry in the world. Life was good. I felt happy again. A small happiness, yes, but nonetheless it was a happiness.

But voices threatened this happiness. rational voices. You don’t need plastic surgery, it said. It won’t make you happy. You’re beautiful. Leave me alone! You’ll get surgery and then what? How will you sustain a relationship? I only need myself, I said to myself.

I pulled up at the clinic and got out, fast and impatient. The excitement was ahead of me and I chased it into the clinic.

“Yes, sir, the doctor will see you shortly,” the receptionist said without looking up. As if she already knew my purpose for being there.

“I wish to be beautiful?” I said.

“Yes, please sit. The doctor will see you shortly.”

And so I moved to the seat at the back, moving amongst the people, trying to be inconspicuous, ashamed of being there. As if being there confirmed in people’s minds how ugly I was.

An older lady sat opposite me and stared – long. I began to fidget when I caught her looking over my entire body, grunting as if in disapproval and then returning to my face, to which she scrutinized harshly.

She was repulsive. Her sagging cheekbones and chin and lack of jaw definition insulted me and my new appreciation for human aesthetics. Her dry and pale skin; her deep wrinkles and her eyes so loose in those empty sockets! And the smell was some kind of kitchen odour removal spray – some kind of cheap lavender that vaguely masked the smell but covering it with another smell. I held my nose and turned to look out the window.

“Is it a nose job?” a thin and flabby voice said.

“Excuse me?”

“Is that why you’re here? Is that why you hold your nose like that?”

“I’m holding my nose because –”

“Because you’re ashamed. It’s quite alright. Nobody’s perfect. I’m here for a facelift.”

“Yes, I assume multiple.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing, only you don’t need it.”

“Oo hooo hooo! You cheeky devil!” she began crying tears of laughter. But I didn’t know why. This made me more uncomfortable. More attention was being aimed at my direction and it made me anxious.

“Are you a married man?” she asked.

“No, why do you ask?”

“Just checking.” she continued laughing. She then pulled out a small wrinkled notebook from her overly large bag and began writing something. After finishing, she tore the page out but slower than it should have taken and then held it out in front of her and dropped it as if accidental. She pretended not to notice but I watched reluctantly.

After a while of her kicking me, I decided to pick it up. A number was scrawled across it but I couldn’t make out what numbers. She probably had arthritis.

Looking up, she winked at me and then said, “Found something?”

“Yeah, it was on the floor. Somebody must have dropped it.”

“Ooo, what’s it say?”

“There’s some numbers but I can’t read it.”

“Ooo it might be lucky lottery numbers you know.”

“Probably.”

“Or maybe a phone number.” She made a 😮 face and then tried to raise her eyebrows.

“Maybe.” I became wildly uncomfortable.

“Maybe when you’re done here you give that number a call, honey. You never know when that might come in handy when you’re in the mood. If you know what I mean.”

“I think so.”

Then she leaned in and said in a whisper, “sometimes no teeth is better.”

“I’m sure,” I said uneasily.

“A Mr. Gersher?” a nurse called from the other side of the room, saving me. I got up quickly but was stopped by the old woman’s walker.

“Good luck with your nose job, honey.” she said.

“Good luck with your age,” I said, having nothing else to say and then quickly jumping over the walker and running to the nurse.

Whilst being led down the hall to the consulting room, I quickly glimpsed back into the waiting room and saw the old woman in a swoon, touching herself affectionately. My god, am I really that ugly that old hags like her find me attractive?

I was led into the doctor’s office. A small intimate room with only a bed and two chairs. It looked more like an interrogation room than a doctor’s office.

“Hello, Mr Gersher, how are you?” he said, without looking at me.

“Not good,” I said. I wanted to shake his hand but he was busy writing something.

“Oh?” he said.

“I am ugly,” I said.

“Yes and when did you first notice this deformity?”

“This morning.”

“As far as you’re aware you’ve only been ugly since this morning.”

“I don’t know when it started,” I said. “I just remember waking up this morning and having a strong feeling that there was an ugliness in me.”

“Ok well let’s see what we have here. I want you to lie down on that table and I want you to remove all your clothing.”

“Remove my clothing?”

“Yes, we must see the extent of your ugliness. If it’s spread to the rest of your body etc.”

“I can assure you my body is fine.”

“Well yes I’m sure you’re a confident man.”

“I don’t mean that–”

“Mr. Gersher, are you willing to cooperate or not?”

“Well yes–”

“Then take your damn clothes off.”

I did as he said. His voice was so commanding. I felt a little fearful of him to be honest. But I trusted him. Removing my trousers, I noticed my penis had shrunk from being so nervous in another man’s presence. Seeing it, he eyed it closely.

“Oh dear,” he said.

I gulped in shame and looked away.

“Well I can’t fix that!” he said, much disturbed by my member.

“I think I want to leave now,” I said, getting up to leave.

“No no. This is good. We’re getting somewhere.” He pushed me back down to the bed with a firm hand. I felt powerless. He began writing notes.

“The legs are too short. The stomach is swollen and flabby. The skin is — but the neck musculature is impressive if I may say so. Do you work out?”

“Yes! In fact I do neck curls. Gives a more masculine look.”

“Really?” he said, looking down at my penis.

“Yes,” I said sternly.

“Well it’s a start,” he said.

I frowned. I hated this place. I hated him.

“Ok, I want you to turn over.”

“My ass is a lovely shape,” I told him in a high pitched voice.

“I’m sure it is. I have no preferences.”

“Ok,” I said. And so I turned over and showed him my buttocks.

“A nice posterior,” he wrote in his notes. But it looked more like a personal diary than anything official.

“Ok, well that’s that,” he said. “I did notice some abnormalities but nothing that can class as a deformity. Although–”

“Although what?”

“Your nose is a concern.”

“My nose? What about it?”

“I don’t know. It’s a rather odd shape. It needs reshaping. Do you mind?” he said, inspecting my deformed trunk.

“You want to perform surgery on it?”

“If it’s quite alright? I mean, it’s bugging me.”

“Will it improve my appearance?”

“I can’t say yet but yes, in most cases a nice nose makes for an equally nice face.”

“Then yes, please.”

“Ok put on this robe.”

“I’m to have surgery now?”

“Why yes, that nose has to come off right away.”

“But– well ok. It’s just I wasn’t expecting surgery this quick.”

“Your ugliness is a disease, Mr gersher and it must be remedied before it is too late.”

“Too late? Too late for what?”

“Nevermind– anyway I will have a nurse come in with some anesthetic soon enough.”

“Thank you, Doctor. This means so much to me.”

“Not a problem. If you need me then just press this button.”

“Thank you.”

“Oh, one more thing?”

“Yes?”

“The penis–”

“Yes?…”

“It’s staying on, right?”

“Of course!”

“Ok – just checking.” He shook his head in confusion as he walked out of the room.

This is good, I thought. I was making progress. It was best to take action on problems right away, really. That way they didn’t build in the mind and cause any further anxiety.

My nose? Was it really the root of my ugliness? I guess I would find out. I hadn’t noticed it when I was younger. Nobody had told me anything. I hadn’t been teased for it. Perhaps a beautiful nose was the secret to universal beauty. Think of all the models with their tiny button noses. No protruding or jagged edges. It was small and cute. Like mine would be. Oh, this was a good thing to do. I felt so much calmer and happier. When the nurse came in and administered the anaesthetic, it had no effect on me really – I was already tranquil.

When I awoke it was with screams, shouting and crying. What? I said. What’s going on? Nurses were running around and doctors were on the other side of the room, squatting together around some papers and figuring. I lay there and felt bandages on my face. A vague sense of a part of me was missing. I felt for my nose and could hardly account for it, despite the swelling from the procedure.

“He’s awake,” someone said.

“My god, do we tell him?”

“Not yet. best lead up to it.”

“Hello, Mr Gersher. How is everything?” The doctor said.

“I don’t know… how are you?”

“We’re fine. We’re just wondering if you’re fine.” Again, nobody looked at me.

“My nose, how is it?”

“The nose? It’s good. We’ve reduced the deformity as suggested but–”

“But? but what?”

“There has been… how do we say it? Unexpected outcomes.”

“Like what? Am I beautiful?”

“Well, we want you to look for yourself. Give him a mirror.”

A Nurse handed me a mirror and then hurried away after I took it, frightened. She was embraced by the other nurses who comforted her.

“Now, what you see may frighten you, Mr Gersher. I hadn’t realised how bad the extent of your ugliness was. I should have examined you further. And that penis– anyway, take a look for yourself and tell us what you feel when you see yourself.”

I brought the mirror up to my face and examined it. I couldn’t see my nose under the bandages but the space my old nose occupied had been greatly reduced. Now I could see my eyes. They were large. My mouth too. And my cheekbones were more visible. It was odd. It was as if I was looking at another person.

“What do you think?” the doctor said.

“Well the nose is smaller,” I said.

“Yes but the rest of it–”

“The rest of it? What do you mean?”

“Your eyes. They’re somewhat misaligned.”

I checked and strangely enough the more I looked at my eyes I too began to notice some flaws.

“That’s odd,” I said.

“And your mouth is lazy,” another doctor chimed in.

“And your bottom lip is thin.”

They were all right. It was. I began to notice other things in my face too. My jaw wasn’t as sharp as I wanted it to be; my eyes were dark and hollow and my brow bone was too prominent.

“Oh my god,” I said, holding my face and twisting in horror at my own reflection.

“I know,” the doctor said, “We’re sorry.”

“Is it fixable?”

“I’m afraid that kind of surgery could take months.”

“I have months.”

“It’s not really time we’re concerned about. Most of us here aren’t willing to perform this surgery.”

“What? Why not? I’ll pay you.”

“Payment isn’t an issue. It’s just–”

“What?”

“It’s just– you’re so damn ugly, Mr Gersher. It’s honestly hard to look at you.”

“But— you can fix me.”

“I know I shouldn’t say it but– youre probably the ugliest patient we’ve ever had and I could quite easily regurgitate all over you right now.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Nothing you say will change our minds.”

“Is– is there anything I can do?”

“If you could stay out of public, you would be saving a lot of people from torment.”

“But myself– how do I live with myself?”

“Well, we’ve had patients in the past who weren’t happy with their faces, even after having the surgery. But of course they weren’t as ugly as you are and we managed to finish their operations. They were quite honestly beautiful after we finished with them, but they weren’t gorgeous, if you know what I mean.”

I nodded, pretending that I knew.

“Anyway, they found a remedy that helped them deal with their ugliness. Quite extreme but necessary.”

“What? What is it? Tell me?”

“I believe you already know, Mr Gersher.”

“No I don’t.”

“I believe you’ve thought about it for a while. Quick and painless and it would solve your problems and everyone else who comes into contact with you.”

“You don’t mean?…”

“I’m afraid I do, Mr Gersher.”

“But– I want to live.”

“That’s good that you feel that way–”

“But?”

“Look, Mr Gersher, I don’t want to be the one to tell you what to do with your life. That’s not my job. But maybe a story might make sense of this and may even make you feel better.”

I nodded slowly. I desperately needed some words of comfort right now.

“Well how does it go? Ah yes! There was a man named Alexander. He was a bakery assistant. He was gorgeous, a gorgeous man. Women came into his bakery just to see him. In fact, some didn’t even buy any bread. They just wanted to see him. Anyway, some talent agents came by one day, scouting for men like Alexander: men with great ‘talents.’ and they recruited him. He became an icon. The most talented man in history. Nothing could bring him down from his god like status. But you know what? This man, Alexander, who was so well loved and rich and successful and had fame and fortune and popularity, do you know what he did? He killed himself. He killed himself- god’s greatest gift, flushed down the bog and for what? Because he was lonely with his beauty. He felt no one treated him for who he truly was. Because you see, in his heart, he was a bakery boy. He wanted to make bread but he couldn’t. He was too famous and so he saw no way out but to kill himself.”

“What’s the point of that?” I said.

“The point is, Mr Gersher, my ugly friend: if the great Alexander could be that beautiful and kill himself, then what are you living for?”

Out of cowardness, I couldn’t do it and so the doctor himself prescribed the means to do it.

“Take it as soon as you get home. We can’t have you dying out in public and people having to see your hideous body.”

“Yes, of course,” I said. “But how many do I take?”

“Take the whole lot. That’s usually how it works.”

“Thank you, Doc.”

“No, thank you. You might not realise it, Mr Gersher, but you’ve saved us a lot of trouble. But your ugliness will leave a mark on my brain and will ruin my sense of beauty. I’m afraid I can’t forgive you for that.”

“I’m sorry, Doc. I’m sorry for my ugliness.”

“It’s too late for that now,” he said, patting me on the shoulder. “It’s just a good thing you never had any children.”

“Yes, I can’t imagine passing this suffering on to another person.”

“Well you’ve already done that but in a non biological way.”

“Oh yes.”

“But yes – no offspring of yours shall ever have to experience the horrific genes of your scrotum. I wonder if your penis has anything to do–”

“I think that is enough, Doc.”

“Yes well if you have any more problems you come right back here. But don’t let yourself be seen. If you’re successful, then– I guess you won’t be coming back.”

“Doc?”

“Yes?”

“Can you tell me you love me?”

“What? Why?”

“It’s just — I feel so alone right now. So scared. It would help me.”

“Ok then. I love you. But as a doctor loves a patient. Is that good enough?”

“Yes– I feel it is somehow. I feel as if I can carry this out now.”

“Well ok then. You’re a very brave man, Mr Gersher. Not many people are willing to admit their ugliness. But you came to us as soon as you realised. That was very noble of you.”

“I was scared. I panicked. And I’m very impulsive.”

“Yes, well you’re doing us all a favour.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Are you sure you didn’t notice this ugliness before? Perhaps you were teased when you were younger? How is your sex life?” he said, looking me up and down.

“Can’t say I have. It seems as if this morning, when I woke up, I awoke for the first time in my life.”

“Amazing- how we can have such sudden shifts of consciousness even after all these years. Life is beautiful…”

“Yes–” I said.

“For some,” he added.

“Goodbye, Doctor.”

“Goodbye, Mr Gersher. Free yourself of your ugliness! Godspeed!”

And so I was discharged from the hospital, with a prescription and a large robe thrown over me, with two eye holes cut out to hide my ugliness, courtesy of the HappyDappy clinic.

I would go home. That was the only place I could go before I did it. I suppose I ought to tell people. Inform them of my ugliness. That way they’d understand why I did what I did. Mother and Father would be first. Then my siblings and then my friends. Maybe work too. But I didn’t want to bother them with having come into contact with me. They might think it was contagious.

After leaving the hospital through the exit, I noticed my ancient admirer had just been released too. She was in a wheelchair and being wheeled around by one of the nurses.

“My, my,” she said. “What do we have here?”

“It was the nose like you suspected,” I said.

“Did it turn out well?” she said, looking at my robed figure.

“No, I have been prescribed medication to kill myself.”

“Well you must have been incurable. They say my surgery was so successful that they’re going to make me a poster girl for elderly patients in the future.”

“Your face is to your liking then?”

“Yes, they replaced my hollow cheeks with the skin and flesh from my flabby tits. Killing two birds with one stone. No more saggy tits and no more hollow cheeks.”

“Congratulations, I’m happy for you.”

“You want to come back to my place and celebrate with me? I have a water bed and an old bottle of wine waiting to be opened.”

“No thank you. I’ve been given strict instructions from the doctor to carry out my death immediately.”

“Oh well that’s a shame. I could use some good friction.”

“Perhaps your husband will help with that?”

“Husband? I’m a free girl. Free spirit. I’m tied down by no one!”

“Yes, well, it was nice meeting you.”

She smiled and her cheeks radiated false beauty. Then she signalled the Nurse to be wheeled away. When she saw some poor other young man, deep in the depths of his own unhappiness, she signalled the nurse to stop again and then started to bother him about how firm her breasts were now.

To be honest, I felt a little jealous. I wondered what she saw in this man. What made him beautiful and me not? Anyway, it didn’t matter, ridding myself of this ugliness only mattered now.

Slowly, I walked to my car, dragging my heels, staying a moment to take in all that had happened and then I made the slow descent down the hill towards my home.

When I arrived, I snuck in quickly to avoid my neighbours’ scrutiny and to avoid the obvious questions about the robe. When I shut the door I began making calls to my loved ones. If they could be called that.

 First were my Mother and Father. I hadn’t spoken to them in months. I wonder if they would care? The line picked up and a thin and croaky voice said, “hello?’ who’s this?”

“It’s me, Mother.” I said solemnly.

“Rupie? How are you?”

“Not good, Mother. I’m ugly.”

“You’re what? Turn that down, Henry!”

I heard a raspy gruff voice in the background say, “I can’t hear it with all your shouting!”

“I’m on the phone now, turn it down!”

“Is Dad ok?”

“Yes, he’s just in one of his moods. Now what did you say?”

“Well there’s no way to say it mother so I’ll just be blunt with you. I’m ugly. I only just found out this morning.”

“Oh no,” she said.

“Yes.”

“Who is that?” My father called.

“It’s little Rupie.”

“What’s he want?”

“He says he’s ugly. He just found out,” she said knowingly.

“Uh oh,” he said.

“Mum? What’s going on?”

“Hang on, darling. Father wants to talk to you.”

“Ok–”

“Son?”

“Yes, Father?”

“So, how are you?”

“Not good, Father. Mother has told you?”

“She did. I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I only just found out this morning.”

“Just this morning you say..”

“Father? Can I ask you something?”

“Yes, Son. What is it?”

“And please be honest. Have I always been ugly? It’s just I seemed so happy before and now all of a sudden this morning it’s as if I’ve woken up to some strange real terror that I’ve been unconscious to my whole life. But nobody has ever told me or made me aware of it. Have I always looked like this?”

“Son, I need to tell you something and I don’t think you’re going to like it. But when you were little, me and your Mother didn’t want to bring you home.”

“Why?”

“Because of your ugliness, Son. You were so damn ugly. I know that’s not what you want to hear but we have to be honest with you.”

“Oh, Henry, do you have to be so blunt?” my mother called in the background.

“Leave it be, woman! He’s got to hear it!”

“You’re so cruel!” she wailed.

“That was your mother.”

“I know.”

“Anyway, the answer is yes, Son. You have always been ugly.”

“But why have I only just noticed it? I feel like someone would have told me or I would have gotten some clue.”

“I have been through what you have, Son. We all have.”

“Father!?”

“It’s true. I believe I was fifty when I first found out. Your mother might disagree with me on those numbers but yes, I remember it distinctly. I was a late bloomer in my ugly awakening. I was shaving one morning, whistling away to some silly tune I had come up with in the bathroom when I was taking a shit and then I began to see.”

“See what, Father?”

“Everything, Son. I saw ugliness everywhere. My hair was receding; my nose hairs were too long; my skin was pale and blemished and freckled and wrinkled and sagging; my eyes were dark and lifeless; my mouth was thin and lazy; my teeth were yellowing and crooked; my ears were too big and pointed; my stomach — well, you get the point.”

“Father, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying, Son, this epiphany of yours – It’s not new. In your youth, in your idle carefree youth and happiness, you managed to repress the consciousness of your grotesqueness and in that you made way for more important things in life: love, friendship, family, learning, a career, intelligence, humour, spirituality (if you ever experienced such a thing). I dare say you did. You know, I feel as if we’re speaking for the first time here. It’s odd but I can finally say all this to you and feel that you might understand. Your mother on the other hand… you know how she is with her beauty products and her fashion magazines and such..”

“Father? Is what you’re telling me true? That I’ve always been ugly?”

“I’m afraid so, Son. But what’s important is how you deal with it.”

“Deal with it?”

“You could either chase this ugliness, try to reduce it or abolish it. But by acknowledging it so attentively you enhance it in a way. You make it larger than yourself and it begins to show on you. Not in your features but in your being. The way you stand starts to become ugly, the way you move and interact with people becomes ugly. Even your thoughts and feelings. Do you see what I mean, Son? Don’t let your ugliness make you ugly.”

“Thank you, Father. I think I needed to hear that.”

“No problem, Son. I hope I have inspired in you a new outlook on life. There’s so much more to it than our bloated stomachs and our receding hair.”

“Yes, Father. I understand.”

“Well, Son, if that’s all I will hang up now. I hope the next time I see you it will be a touching moment for both of us.”

“I hope so too, Father.”

“Goodbye, Son.”

And just like that, my outlook changed. I wasn’t going to let this.. this.. deformity control me. I didn’t care what the doctor said. If people didn’t like the way I looked then fine.. I would do things my own way. Killing myself wasn’t the answer.

Just at that moment, when I was looking up the phone numbers of my old friends, wanting to call them and ask them to meet up, a commercial came on the television. It was the doctor’s room setting again but this time the patient wasn’t talking about their physique. The woman walked into the room, timid and shy and hunched over. She dressed plainly and her eyes darted about the room, hard to find focus.

A doctor talked to her from across the room but she didn’t retain eye contact.

“What seems to be the problem, maam?”

“I don’t know, doctor. I’m scared. I don’t know what to do.”

“Well let’s calm down and see what we can do about it. What’s bothering you?”

“I don’t like myself,” the woman said in a small voice.

“What was that?” the doctor said.

“I don’t.. like myself.”

“Yes, ok..” the doctor began writing notes. “And so when did you first realise you didn’t like yourself?”

The woman looked up into the doctor’s face with tears in her eyes.

“This morning,” she said.

“Do you remember a specific moment when you realised you didn’t like yourself?”

“I don’t remember anything. In fact, I feel as if my whole life has been a lie. Like I’m suddenly awake to what’s real– I–”

I turned the television off. For some reason I began to feel depressed.

* * * * THE END * * * *
Copyright Jake Pursey 2024