She swallowed.
“I thought if I bought the extensions and the perfumes, people would look at me the same way.”
“And did they?”
“For a while.”
She looked toward the window.
“Then I would see someone else with something better. And suddenly what I had wasn’t enough anymore.”
I recognized something in her voice that I had heard many times during my years as a teacher.
It was the sound of someone who had spent so long comparing herself to others that she had forgotten how to appreciate what she already possessed.
“I spent money I didn’t really have,” she continued. “I kept telling myself I deserved it. I wanted to feel special.”
“Wanting to feel special isn’t a crime,” I said. “But spending money to impress strangers can become an expensive way of feeling lonely.”
She looked at me.
“I didn’t mean to be so rude to you.”
