The universe has good news for the lost, lonely, and heartsick.
The sugars are here, speaking straight into your ears.
I'm Steve almond.
I'm Cheryl strayed.
This is dear sugars.
Oh, dear.
So won't you please share some little sweetness with me?
I check my bell eyes every day.
Oh, in the sugar you see my way.
So, Cheryl, I want to read you something.
Okay.
I've been thinking about it, this singularity of meaning.
I was my face, I was ugliness.
When asked what was wrong with my life, everything led to it.
Everything receded from it.
My face as personal vanishing point.
When I tried to imagine being beautiful, I could only imagine living without the perpetual fear of being alone, without the great burden of isolation, which is what feeling ugly felt like.
Lucy Greeley.
That is the great Lucy Greeley from her remarkable memoir, autobiography of a face.
And the reason it just leapt out at me is because we've had a number of letters show up in our inbox, a couple in particular that we're going to talk about today that really are about something utterly elemental, which is, I feel inside my face is ugly.