He called me beautiful

I think I have a good face and on a good day I could call myself pretty, but it’s very rarely that I have placed myself in the “beautiful” category.

Now I have struggled with adult acne for the past five or so years and it has left its mark, both on my skin and on my self-image. Earlier this year, I began to see a dermatologist (again) and started on a treatment regimen that first seemed to help but then my skin reverted to its “normal” state and got progressively worse. 

A generalised break-out maybe would not be so bad but couple that with a dose of compulsive skin picking and you have a royal mess. For the past month, my face has been a study in pustules, papules, sores and scars, and my self-confidence has taken a serious hit.

So, imagine the lift to my spirit when, in the midst of all that, someone calls me “beautiful”? He was a total stranger. I am usually reserved and wary of strangers, so such conversations usually last five minutes tops. But he called me “beautiful.” Needless to say, the conversation lasted almost two hours, and I believe that out of a simple compliment given off-handedly, a lasting friendship has been born.