My Looks......

As a child my mother and my aunts used to tell me that I would grow upto become handsome. It was clear to me that I was not anything to look at then , but I believe some measure of beauty might come to me eventually.
I do not know what I thought: that my ears which are as tiny as ears of rat will grow a little, that my head grow somehow to fit them? That my hair, not unlike a toilet brush in texture would, with time, unkink itself and reflect light? That my face which held so little promise- eyes as small as ant`s, lips on the thin side-would somehow transform itself into something not regrettable?
For years, I would wake up in the morning and go to the mirror, hoping. Even I was too old to continue hoping, still I did. I grew older and there was no improvement. If anything, things went downhill, I was visited by a plague of acne. For years I continued to hope that things would turn out differently, but I never looked at the mirror.
With time I thought about it less and less. Then hardly at all. And yet. It`s possible that some small part of me has never stopped hoping-that even now there are moments when I stand in front of mirror and believe my beauty is yet to come.