One morning Eva wakes up and realizes that her suicide attempt was unsuccessful. She is ashamed, but happy. This means that she has a chance, she has a mission. Long months of rehabilitation, and later psychological support, convince her that vitiligo, which she suffers from, is not the worst thing that can happen to a person. As a rule, fear should be looked directly in the eyes. Eva will become a make-up artist, “making people beautiful”. In this way she will also notice her own beauty.
Extract:
But as soon I stepped into adulthood, all the downsides were there to explore: curious glances gave way to contemptuous stares; interest turned to disgust. People around me, overwhelmed with frustration and self-doubt, raged about themselves and their life circumstances, and I was the perfect target to blow off steam, gloat, or make excuses. “That girl is so ugly.” “What happened to her skin?” “I’m happy I don’t have it.”
“Your hands look horrible,” a cashier at the grocery store said.
“You have to do something about it,” a woman at the bus stop said.
“No one is ever going to marry you,” a man in a train compartment said, unable to keep his thoughts to himself.
Their days get better if they say it out loud. They treat it as small talk about weather, or part of their morning routine. Don’t forget to grab a coffee on your way to office—and don’t miss your chance to approach that girl sitting at the next table and tell her that her hands look ugly. (You’ll blow her mind, she has no idea!) Or maybe one of your friends has a similar condition and you can’t help but share such an essential piece of information. If your colleague ruined your day, your lunch was disgusting, your shoes rubbed against your heels, it started pouring all of a sudden, or a car splashed the water all over your coat—don’t worry. I, a girl with ugly hands, will appear from around the corner, and you’ll regain your good spirits as soon as you remind me about this fact.
