Deep down I knew that I was pretty, but it seemed embarrassing to admit this, because I knew there was something ugly about me, too. My prettiness wasn’t straightforward or consistent and it was something I felt more when I was by myself. I was never the prettiest girl in the room, and never would be. I wondered if he was lying to me or if it was possible that he saw me how I saw myself in my most private, most generous moments.
