It was morning and I was ugly.
Near as I can figure it, I pissed in the wrong witch’s pool at some point. All I know is one night I went to Spanky’s, drank a lot, danced a lot, and went home with the first available hottie. The next morning, I woke up cursed.
And ugly. Did I mention ugly?
Not the best outcome for a twenty-two year old fashion model, let me tell you. I had a photoshoot the following week. I had an agent who kept promising me the cover of Vogue if I kept going the way I was. Sure, twenty-two is a bit old for a modeling career to take off, but I had hopes. It had to take off. It wasn’t like I had skills to do anything else. Even on a good day, I’m not fit for fast food or retail sales. Like this, I’m not fit for even that.
Who wants to buy food or clothes from a hag?
I spent the first twenty-four hours of my ugliness trapped inside my apartment with the drapes drawn and the door closed. After the initial shock of seeing myself, I threw towels over all the mirrors. It was like someone was sitting shiva in there. Until I tried to get ready for bed.
With nothing and nowhere to go, I opted for an early bedtime. Brushing your teeth is an interesting experience when you can’t see yourself. So I sucked it up and pulled the towel down. Prepped for a glimpse of gruesome, I got the second shock of the day when a nearly normal me stared back. Other than looking like I had the roughest day of my young life, I was me again.
Chalking it all up to the worst hangover ever, I swore off booze and went to bed, confident in my beauty. I didn’t remember falling asleep. I don’t even remember dreaming. I closed my eyes in the dark one minute and opened them the next in the soft light of dawn.
I wish I could say I felt a tingle or a twitch. Even a burning sensation in my nether regions would’ve been preferable, because it would’ve provided a warning. Nope. I got nothing.
Except ugly. Overnight ugly.
At first I totally doubted my sanity. Nobody gets ugly overnight. Then again, no one gets pretty throughout the day either. Either a person is always pretty or they’re always ugly.
Psychotic break now or one earlier in my life—neither option made me feel any better about myself. Of course, the only other answer seemed just as crazy. Magic isn’t real. Curses don’t happen in real life…
Unless they do.