“You shouldn’t be working on the weekends.”

Work has always been inextricably linked to self-worth in my life. Maybe that’s because I was an artist. Or maybe it’s because at my core I believe we all exist to contribute to the whole. Growing up I never thought about having children or getting married. But I did dream of work.

Of course, those were different dreams.

And that was a different time.

When Dante climbed through Purgatorio and landed upon the second terrace he discovered those who dwelled there wore cloaks of grey and had their eyes sewn shut. The punishment for envy.

In 2020 it has other names. Fitspo. Couple Goals. Blessed. Phthonus manifests in hashtags and camouflages himself in trends. And I am far from immune.

“You could almost be pretty, but your teeth are so off-putting. It’s all I can focus on when you open your mouth.”

When I was 25 my male “best-friend” told me something about my smile that no one had ever said to me before. It stung. And not just because he said it, but because I trusted him to tell me the unvarnished truth. Which meant that other people had been thinking it all along and I didn’t know. I have not smiled for a photo since. This year I turned 38.