How old were you when you first realized that appearance really matters?
Is it true that being beautiful is like playing the game of Life on easy mode?
Don’t Go Yourself
I was very young when it became clear to me. My aunt sent my sister and me to the butcher and said, don’t ask for the meat yourself—let your sister do it, so we get better cuts. I was a glasses-wearing, brown-haired girl with prominent ears, while my sister was a blonde little fairy. I know my aunt meant well—and she was right, my sister really did get nicer meat—but that comment made me realize I wasn’t pretty, and it crushed my confidence for life.
A Cold Shower
When I turned 40, I suddenly felt invisible to society—especially to men. I complained to a friend, who told me I had no right to complain because I’d enjoyed the perks of beauty for 40 years, while she’d felt unattractive her whole life.
The Punishment
I was six, in first grade. I forgot my pencil case at home and nervously told the teacher, who frowned and scolded me for being forgetful, warning it must never happen again. Then beautiful Pirike came forward to admit she’d left her homework at home, and the teacher smiled, gently patted her head, and said it was okay—it could happen to anyone.
Serious Consequences
At 16, I gained weight due to hormone treatment and people started to overlook me. That’s when I realized how privileged my life had been. Everyone used to smile at me, help me, let me go first, and be kind. Suddenly, those same people didn’t even look my way. It felt like I’d been given a superpower I never asked for—invisibility.
The Ideal
I think I was no older than four. My mom always dreamed of having a child she could dress up and strangers would compliment on the street for being so pretty. Then came me—a red-haired, freckled little sprite everyone mistook for a boy. Mom was exceptionally beautiful, and her attractive appearance was a big part of her identity. She didn’t know how to handle having a daughter who didn’t look like her. From a very young age, I felt her disappointment that I didn’t fit her ideal.
The Grades
In school, the class’s most handsome boy, Bandi Kovács, and prettiest girl, Panka Füzessy, always got better grades than they deserved. Poor Eszter Bárdos—a notably unattractive girl—was top of the class but had to work twice as hard for recognition.
The Hairstyle
Until I was 26, I only had a “helmet” haircut—the short Cleopatra style that my mom insisted I wear because:
"With bangs, I can hide my huge forehead, and with the hair combed to the side, I cover my hamster-like face."
At 26, a boyfriend suggested I try a different hairstyle since I’d worn the same look all my life. (I haven’t had a helmet haircut since.)
Success
Thinking of my university friends, I realized those with attractive looks always landed good jobs and continue to hold high positions—regardless of family background, street smarts, or intelligence. Their partners are similarly successful and attractive. That’s not usually true for those of us who aren’t considered pretty.
Called Out
As a child, I heard many adults bluntly tell me I was an ugly kid.
Advantages
After losing a lot of weight due to illness (read about the importance of well-being when health—not weight loss—is the goal), colleagues started noticing how good I looked. I maintained my weight with a healthy diet and bought new, more flattering clothes. I added blonde highlights and wore my hair down, pairing it with stronger makeup. Those coworkers who’d ignored me before now actively sought my company and even promoted me. I should add I’d fought hard for that position for years without success—and had given up—only to be offered it once I looked better.
